The Wrong World 1924: Soul of Gold
by Charlien
Summary: After being thrown back into our world, Alfons and Al have to get along, cope and atone for their loss in order to figure out a way to get Edward back. Meanwhile they face a mysterious and dangerous enemy. AU, angst, drama, slash, HeixEd. Sequel to Amestris 1917: The Equivalent Bond.
1. Atonement

Hello, I'm back again! With another story new readers can click on and find out that-"oh God, do I have to read 4 other stories before I can read this one?" Kind of. There will be a lot of references to some of my other stories, especially _'Munich 1923'_ and _'Amestris 1917.'_

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, the characters or the movie. Hiromu Arakawa has beaten us all into the mud with all that, but hell aren't we all glad she did.

Enjoy!

**The Wrong World 1924: Soul of Gold**

**CHAPTER 1: ATONEMENT**

"_You have to let me go. Don't try to get me back."_

_Alfons couldn't move. The only thing his ears could catch through all of the noise was the pleading voice inside him._

_Alfons opened his eyes, staring straight into deep gold. "But..." he whispered._

_"Go. Take him somewhere safe. I know you'll be alright without me."_

_No, he wouldn't. How the hell would he?_

"_I'm counting on you." That soft smile. "Take care of him for me, Alfons." The voice was pure sadness and pain forcefully hidden behind weakening golden eyes, and the twinge in them struck Alfons' heart just as much._

_Alfons reached to clutch him, to hold him back, but his hands caught another person. Someone smaller, covered in red and bronze._

"_Edward!" Alfons cried, and kept clutching the smaller form to his chest. "Edward! Don't go!"_

_Don't leave me._

"_EDWARD!"_

_But the black hands took Edward away, and Edward just stood there, letting it happen with his eyes closing. Then nothing._

Alfons abruptly awoke, bathing in cold sweat and reaching frantically out in the air with both hands to grab after Edward's ghost.

But he was gone.

Gasping after his breath and clutching the covers to his chest where he was now sitting, he unwillingly let his brain catch up to the present. Somehow his eyes had started to sting of warm, running salt water. Still now, almost an entire month later he was still crying in his sleep. Like his tears could wash all the dreams away.

He stared around the bedroom from corner to corner. It was unfamiliar. Not home. Where was home, really? He didn't even know anymore.

"Yes, that's still what happened," he mumbled to himself. "It's a real nightmare. Will always be..." He jerked as someone knocked carefully on his door.

"Heiderich," a voice said drowsily. "Is something wrong?"

Alfons had stifled, and then sighed in realization of who it was. "It's nothing."

The door opened, and in the doorway stood a smaller person in the dim light from the hall, staring puzzled at him. "You screamed… in your sleep."

"I'm sorry I woke you," Alfons apologized. "You should get back to sleep." It had been a long day and a long night, this New Year's Eve.

"I was already awake," Al said, his gaze averting his. "I can't sleep."

Alfons sat up in a more comfortable position and gave the other a weak smile. "I see."

Al made no motion to leave. "Can I… sleep here next to you?"

Alfons stared surprised at him. "Here?"

The other nodded slowly, the loose and long bronze locks of hair draping over his small shoulders. He looked fragile and lost. Like Alfons had been. Like Alfons was.

"Sure, Al. Of course."

Al's copper eyes danced back at him again, somewhat lit up. "Thank you." He stepped over to Alfons' bed and climbed in. Alfons scooted a bit and lifted up his cover for him so he could crawl into the warmth.

Alfons hadn't expected this. It wasn't very much like Al. He had calmed down for now, but the tension between them had been uncomfortable for him and riled on Al's part. Al was probably still just enduring everything for now. Nothing was over yet, it had barely even begun.

Al had hated him ever since the day they left Munich. Or, maybe even since the night they came to this world.

-Three weeks earlier-

"_Your brother is gone."_

It simply kept on snowing. The flakes of white were neither big nor falling heavily, they just never ended. Alfons had so many thoughts waiting to let his mind consider that he didn't even know where to start. Nothing made any sense, but yet he knew exactly what had happened. It just didn't make sense that it had actually happened like this.

The cold was almost unbearable. It was practically making his shirt freeze to his skin. What should they do? Where should they go? And how would they get anywhere? They were basically in the middle of nowhere without any form of shelter. The building that had used to be Thule Society's headquarters was gone. The transmutation circle Edward had made long ago was gone. The Gate was gone...

And Edward was gone.

Al's red coat wasn't made for winters. He was trembling from the cold as well, albeit ignoring it for the time being as he simply stared up at the wide, grey sky of the new world.

"What do you mean, my brother is gone?" he asked a bit sharply. There was no way Edward could just disappear like that. He would never let his brother do that to him again! Or... was it Al who had disappeared this time? As the stranger didn't reply momentarily, Alphonse directed his eyes at him again and swallowed thickly. "Is this... Munich?" he whispered. "The other world?"

"Yes," Alfons confirmed quietly.

"Was there a Gate here? Did we come through it?"

"Yes."

Al looked around, at the ruins of something that looked to have been a huge building not long ago. What had happened to it? So much of the building had just vanished, like it had been sucked right into another dimension. Had the Gate done this? Where was the Gate now?

"Are we the only ones here?"

"Yes," the stranger replied again.

Al fixed his eyes at him again, a sudden gush of anger flushing through him. "Stop simply saying that! Where is my brother? He was together with us, right?" If his brother wasn't here with them, then where was he now? Was he still in Amestris, or was he... inside the Gate?

The other seemed like an idiot. He simply stood there, gazing emptily back at him without responding. But he had been awake longer than Al, and Al didn't remember anything that had happened after he had gone into the Gate with his brother. He didn't even remember why they had gone into the Gate in the first place. This person had to know something and Al was starting to grow uncharacteristically impatient. "Please, tell me where my brother is," he tried again, his voice shaking and teeth chattering.

Alfons hardly managed to answer at all, and he hated himself for it. His chest was tightening uncomfortably and he didn't know how long he would be able to even strand upright. He lifted his hands to his temples, closing his eyes, not even managing to hold back another flow of tears. They froze on his cheeks. Al deserved to know. But yet Alfons couldn't... He didn't know! What did he know? Edward had told him to go and forget about him! Edward had told him that they could never even _try_ to bring him back. Was Edward gone forever?

Alfons took a deep breath of icy air and held back quiet sobs. This was too much. Why didn't Al remember him anymore? Why had the Gate done this to him? He hadn't wanted any of this to happen!

Al stared at the stranger in disbelief. Who in the world was this person? What gave him the right to stand there and _cry_ and be more upset than he was? His own brother was _not here_, and he had just ended up in another_world_.

"Who the hell are you?" Al demanded. "Why isn't my brother here too?" He gnashed his teeth, feeling annoyed that he had to ask this person for answers he clearly wasn't going to get. He wished he could remember by himself, but his frustrated mind was a chaos of images merging with his old memories. He hardly knew which from which, even less the chronological order of them. What had happened to him?

"Edward..." Alfons said, his voice weak but finally starting to work again. "Edward stayed behind to save us, and now he's gone. He said... all three of us wouldn't make it through alive."

Al took some deep breaths. That couldn't be true! He had just been reunited with his brother after two years of searching. His brother would never waste that away... He had promised...

"_I'm sorry Al... I can't keep my promise."_

Al clasped his palms to his own temples, his head suddenly felt like he was being pounded on, and sank to his knees in the snow. "No... Brother... BROTHEEEEER!" he screamed. He hardly recognized his own voice. Was he speaking a different language? His palms tightened and his fists went slamming down into the ground. His hands felt like two blocks of ice attached to his wrists.

Suddenly the other person stood right by his side, clutching one of his arms tightly and stared at him in concern. "Al, I'm so sorry. I don't know what we should do..."

"He will come!" Al said rigorously and made an unsuccessful attempt to pull his arm out of the stranger's grasp. "I'll wait right here! He will be here soon."

Alfons stared hopelessly at him. "We can't just stay here, we'll both freeze to d—"

"Get away from me!" Al yelled and abruptly pushed him away, making the other stagger backwards but at least he had let go of him. "You know nothing!" Al refused to accept this. Still, he didn't understand. He didn't even know this person, and why did he look so hurt?

Images flashed before his eyes again. Memories. They were short and fragile. He was on a roof, fighting Amestrian soldiers and someone was with him on his side, but he didn't remember who. Another image showed a man, his name was vague but Al believed it was something like Peterson, and he pointed a gun at him. In the same moment a person moved in front of him to protect him, but again, he couldn't see his face, didn't know his name. The next image was very new, someone pulled his arm back in place after it was dislocated, and even if he was sitting right next to him the whole time, his name and face was just a blur, just a shadow. Barely even that.

Al's breath came out short and ragged, his head turning dizzy of all the holes in his memory. He reeled further back, just as the person called his name and moved to grip after his arm again. His eyes rolled back into his skull and everything blackened before his eyes.

"Al!" Alfons exhaled as Alphonse suddenly collapsed on his stomach in the snow. "Al, are you alright?" He curved over him and shook him. But the younger boy made no motion to get up again.

"Shit..." Alfons breathed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _Take one step at a time... You have to be rational. Get Al somewhere warm. Worry about other things later._

He opened his eyes to the night again, and somehow he managed to shove away the most of his apprehension. _Do what Edward would've done._

He stood up and observed his surroundings as far as his eyes could make out in the fogged view, looking for any sign of people, houses, anything. Anyone or anything that could possibly help them.

He didn't see any people or houses in the distance, but he did see one thing that made his heart make a light jump inside his chest.

It was an old automobile. It was parked further down by the small road that had led to the Thule Society residence. It wasn't just any automobile either. It was the very same vehicle Edward had drove them to this place in the last time they had been there. The day they left this world. Alfons could hardly believe that it was still there, right where they had left it.

Quickly he curved down over Al again. "Come on," he whispered softly and hurled the smaller boy up from the ground. With some effort he managed to launch him over his shoulder and started to stumble his way through the light snow towards the road. It was fortunate that the snow hadn't gotten very deep yet, and it was still very loose. Hopefully the auto wouldn't get stuck. The ground was icy underneath the snow, and Alfons walked very carefully, avoiding a slip and losing his grip on Al.

At last he reached the automobile and struggled for a minute to get one of the doors open. They had been frozen stuck from sitting here, untouched, for so long in this cold temperature. Alfons had to put Al down on the ground in order to get one of them open. Finally he had luck with the passenger door and immediately leaned over the seat on his knee, finding the keys still sitting ready in the ignition switch and twisted them. The engine coughed a little, and seemed to hack away and refused to start properly. Alfons cursed under his breath and pulled himself out again. Then he picked Al up from the snow and lifted him into the car seat, deciding he'd better get him inside first. Even if it wouldn't be much warmer it would at least shelter them from the wind.

Al's head drooped to the side where he was placed laxly in the seat, and Alfons felt slightly scared of what would happen when he woke up. Al didn't remember who Alfons was, and he hadn't seemed to be very indulgent concerning their situation. Not that he blamed Al for that. Alfons could perfectly understand, he wasn't pleased at all either. He was scared. But there was nothing else he could do! He wondered exactly how much Al remembered.

He climbed into the car on Al's side, crawling over him and turned to shut the door, closing out the sour wind and the falling snowflakes.

With a deep breath, he sat down in the front seat behind the cold wheel and hugged around himself for a bit to gather some warmth, his breathing misting in the cold air as he let out his breath again. He had driven an automobile once, very recently, without having a driver's licence. He trusted that he could do it again.

If he could get the auto to start.

He gripped around the wheel with one hand and twisted the key around with the other, holding it in place as the engine started coughing and struggling again.

"Please start," he murmured. The auto had belonged to Van Hohenheim before Edward had inherited it after Hohenheim's death, along with a hundred books and some money. Van Hohenheim had died in this place, when there was a building there, a little more than one month ago. Alfons wondered how much time it had actually been. The time in the two worlds confused him and he didn't really know exactly what day or date it was in this world now. When he had left Amestris it had been May. Here it had to be December or at least sometime during winter.

He let the engine rest for a couple of seconds before he tried again, and finally it started to sound livelier. The engine droned into a low simmer and Alfons sighed in relief. He turned up everything he could find which related to heat, and put the car into gear before leaning his head back for a bit.

The heat felt good against his icy cold hands and warmed up the air in the car after just a few minutes. He turned the heat in another direction to blow warm air against Al, and stretched over him to put on his seatbelt.

Then he pulled back with a sigh and sank back in his seat. The windshield wipers brushed away the snow from his view, making it possible to see the road in front of him. It was first then Alfons realized, he had really no idea where to drive.

As he had told Edward inside the Gate, he had really no home to return to in this world. He hadn't wanted to come here. He still didn't want to be here. He would have rather gone back into the Gate to stay there than having to face this truth.

He leaned over the wheel with a sad smile. Still, it wasn't like he didn't know anyone. But could he simply show up at either of their doorstep? He used to live above Gracia's apartment with Edward. But she had been low on money just as everyone else in most of Germany during these times. For all he knew, she might have already rented out their room to someone else.

His old team mates were probably at home, sleeping or being with their families. He knew of only one person he could possibly turn to. He lived alone after all, and had known his father very well. He had almost been like a father figure to Alfons for many years. If anyone, he knew he would always be welcome there.

Yes. Vato Falman was his only option right now.

He stepped on the gas and the auto moved forward. He kept the windscreen wipers going as he drove, leaving the ruins of Thule Society's headquarters behind.

Leaving behind Edward...

He shut his eyes tightly for a second, before staring determinedly up ahead again. It was too late, wasn't it?

Edward was really gone.

He knew Al had wanted to stay behind and wait. He sent the younger unconscious boy a short glance. Of course Alfons wanted to stay behind too, to have hope and wait, but one of them had to be rational. There were no traces left of the Gate. It had been destroyed. Which meant, Edward had no chance in getting out now. And someone who had sacrificed oneself could never return, right? The Gate had robbed them of everything. It had even nearly robbed him of his own memories of Edward and the other world.

At least he still had that.

He felt his doppelganger stir and shift beside him and his palms automatically tightened a bit around the steering wheel.

Al frowned as his vision came back into focus. He shivered a bit, but a comfortable heat was blowing gently at him from the dashboard. Alphonse lifted his head and stared at the person driving the automobile. He had no idea how he had ended up in this auto or where they were heading, but he didn't care. Who was this stranger? Was he just going to leave the only place Edward might show up in when he came back?

"Before you start yelling at me," the stranger said, "just listen. Try to understand if you can. I'm just as upset as you are. I really care a lot about your brother and I understand that you're confused and probably scared. I am too. But right now there is nothing we can do. This used to be my world, you probably know there's commonly no such thing as alchemy here... I don't know how long it has been since I left this world with your brother, but I assume it has been a little over a month. I know of a place where we'll probably be welcome, but you have to keep a low profile. We can't tell anyone that you're from another world, maybe expect the one we're going to visit."

The words had just flowed out of him. He hadn't really given them much thought, but he agreed with himself that he was right, and he hoped his words made sense to Al too. If someone heard that he was from another world, there could be some problems. It had only caused problems with Edward whenever that information had either accidentally or on purpose slipped from his lips. The reason why he thought of Vato Falman as an exception was because if he was going to ask the man for help, he would need to explain a lot of things. Falman had already known about the large Gate in the ceiling at Thule Society. He had been there when Dietlinde Eckart had escaped and left this world.

He had to explain where he and Edward had disappeared off to for so long. He trusted that Falman would keep it a secret.

To his light surprise, Al didn't reply to what he had said. He kept completely silent and averted his eyes entirely. Alfons swallowed. He hadn't expected this. Al wouldn't usually just keep silent. He wondered what Al was really thinking.

Alfons took a new deep inhale. "We're going into town. I used to work with someone called Vato Falman there, you probably recognize his name from your world. He is the Warrant Officer's parallel person, just like we are since we look alike for the most part."

Al didn't reply to that either. Neither did he seem new to the information. His eyes widened a little, but then he turned to stare idly out of the window.

Alfons was usually never very talkative. At least not when he didn't get a single word in response from the person he tried to converse with. It worried him slightly that Al wasn't talking. But he guessed the younger needed some time to adjust. Maybe to think. Maybe to find a way to atone...

_Was that even possible?_

Alfons realized he had just let out a deep sigh, but Al seemed to ignore it.

At last they were driving closer to the city and Alfons tensed behind the wheel. Since he didn't have much driving experience and the roads were icy, he slowed down and kept his foot very carefully on the gas pedal. He had in fact never driven an automobile on a real road before. But on the other hand, there weren't many other people outside in this weather and this late at night which made everything a bit easier.

Not a single word was said between them before Alfons finally drove into one of the German suburbs outside the centre of the city. It was a quiet neighbourhood, and he stopped the auto outside the right house. Everything seemed dark and silent in the house.

"Here it is," he said in a low voice. He turned to look at Al and was about to say something, but he stopped as he noticed that Al was holding a piece of chalk in his hands and his attention was fully attached to the white stone rather than anything else. Alfons let it be for now, and stopped the engine. "Let's go."

He stepped out of the automobile, and wasn't very surprised when Al made no motion to come with him. With a deep sigh he shut the car door and headed for the porch of the small house. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. There was no point urging Al out of the warm car when there wasn't even a certainty that Falman was actually home. Besides, he could use a private minute with the man first.

Alfons stopped in front of the door and hesitated for a moment before ringing the door bell. His nerves nearly got a hold of him. What was he supposed to say? Though, he rang nonetheless, figuring that he had to deal with one second at a time. He waited several minutes before he rang the second time. Falman was either sleeping or not at home. Just when he was about to give up and walk away, he heard steps on the other side and he froze in the middle of a step down from the porch.

The door opened slowly, and there stood old Vato Falman, a much more corpulent version of him than the military officer in the other world. His eyes grew into double size of the sight of Alfons.

"Holy mother of..." the man exhaled. "I can hardly believe my eyes." He stretched his arms out slowly to touch his shoulders. "Alfons Heiderich... in his own person."

"Mr. Falman, I'm sorry for..." Alfons started, but interrupted himself as Falman stepped forward and pulled him into a warm embrace.

"Thank God you're alive," Falman said softly. "Where have you been all this time? You and Edward just disappeared. The whole town has been talking about it."

Alfons felt something press in his throat again. He hadn't even realized that people would probably think he was dead. He was practically rising back from the grave! Neither had he expected such a warm welcome of this sort. Falman looked so... _happy_ to see him. It made the pressure behind his eyes even harder to hold back.

"It's a long story," Alfons said tranquilly as the older man let go of him.

"Hughes and I have had a theory of course, with the Gate and the car standing outside Thule Society. But we decided that no one else should find out about the Gate and made a cover story."

Alfons was surprised. "You did?"

Falman smiled and waved him off. "I'll tell you everything, and you have a lot to tell me as well. Let's go inside rather than freeze out here."

Alfons nodded. "I just need to go pick up someone from the auto. He's... a bit reluctant."

"Oh, that's right," Falman smiled. "Edward must be with you. Is he alright as well? I'll prepare some tea for both of you."

Alfons almost let out a sob after hearing Edward's name, and quickly dried off the moisture in the corner of his eyes. "No. It's not Edward... It's... I'll tell you when we get inside."

Falman stared a little unsurely at him before he nodded. "Alright. Come back inside quickly so you won't freeze."

Alfons returned a meek smile. "Thanks." He stepped down from the porch and jogged back to the automobile. He noticed that Alphonse hadn't even moved since he left a while ago. Alfons bit his lip as he stepped to the passenger side and opened the car door.

Al sunk deeper down in his seat and his hold tightened around the round piece of chalk.

"Hey Al..." Alfons said. "Don't you want to come inside? He's a very nice man."

Al didn't make a sound.

Alfons started to lose some of his patience. He understood why Al was upset, _of course he was upset,_ but his stubborn method of shutting him out didn't actually make things much better! "Please, just come inside for now," he said shakily. "You're allowed to be upset, but you're only making it worse right now."

Al's eyes narrowed and he made a short snort from his small nose. Alfons had never seen him act so cold before.

He was about to start rising his voice when another automobile showed up on the street and stopped a couple of houses away. It was the only other movement in the neighbourhood right now, since it was in fact very late. Alfons' eyes made a wary notion of it and figured the one driving would be in hearing distance if he started talking any louder. A man dressed in a long white coat and a bowler hat stepped out of the car. Alfons didn't pay him any further mind and turned his attention back to Al.

"Stop being like this! Either you're coming with me, or I will leave you right here and you won't even get any sort of explanations that can restore your missing memories. Be my guest." He turned away to leave, and for a moment he thought Al was still going to act stubborn and stay where he was, but then he heard the boy shift slowly and remove his seat belt. Alfons sighed quietly in relief, and turned back as Al stepped out of the auto and quietly shut the door.

This was at least a start.

While Alfons waited for Al to catch up, he got an odd feeling that he only felt whenever he knew someone was staring at him. He lifted his gaze and discovered the man with the bowler hat still standing by the automobile that had arrived a short while ago. The man stood beside his auto, standing still and smoking a cigarette, his eyes directed straight at him.

Alfons stiffened and shuddered a bit. A nervous feeling was spreading in his mind. Why was he staring at them like that? Alfons was pretty sure he didn't know him.

Al stopped beside him and gave him a short and questioning look. Then his eyes directed at the man as well.

"Come, Al," Alfons said, and urged the younger boy further in front of him. To his relief Al moved this time and stepped fast towards the door to get in shelter from the sharp wind misted with grains of snow.

Al held discreetly around himself, but didn't seem to want to show how cold he really was. Alfons knew how humble he could be, so he said: "I'll make sure Falman finds some dry clothes for you."

Al averted his eyes and removed his shoes in a hurry and then stood awkwardly still on his spot in the hall, too shy to move further inside alone. He kept his coat on.

Alfons didn't even have a jacket. He had left it behind somewhere in the other world. Probably in their house or at the office. He didn't remember. Sometimes his memories of Amestris had started to fade, but he held onto what he had now that the Gate couldn't alter him anymore. He removed his shoes as well, finding that his socks were soaked and his toes numb. Al's were probably too.

"Just come in!" Falman's voice called from the kitchen. "Sit by the fireplace so you'll get warm."

Alfons stepped past Al, figuring he would follow after him to the living room. He headed for the kitchen which was connected by an open doorway innermost in the living room and let Falman know he was there.

"So, isn't Edward here with you?" Falman asked as he filled three cups with hot water.

"No," Alfons said tightly.

Falman immediately looked alarmed. "You didn't come back alone, did you?"

Alfons shook his head. "No. Someone came with me." He turned to Al, who had stepped slowly into the living room and stopped by the doorway to the hall, seeming to stay as close to the exit as possible so he'd have the opportunity to escape if he found it necessary.

Falman stepped out of the kitchen, curious of who Alfons was talking about. As Al turned towards the man, his eyes widened and tensed in a familiar expression Alfons had seen Edward do so many times before, whenever he had seen someone he recognized from the other world. Alfons had become quite used to it, even experienced the same in Amestris so he knew how it felt now compared to last time he was in Munich.

Falman looked slightly troubled as well, seeing the obvious resemblance Al had to Alfons. "Hello," he said, a friendly smile on his face.

"Al, this is Falman," Alfons said. "Falman, this is Alphonse Elric... He's Edward's little brother."

"Edward's brother, you say?" Falman acknowledged merrily. "What a surprise." He reached his hand to the younger boy and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Alphonse."

Al parted his lips, as to reply, but he seemed unable to make any form of vocal response out of mere perplexity.

"Your hands are cold," Falman noted. "I'll bring you a cup of tea right away. And you'll need some fresh clothes too."

"That would be nice, thank you," Alfons said.

"No problem at all," Falman said, and ushered Al towards the comfortable fireplace.

"You look a little scrawny. I have some soup if you want some?"

Al shook his head fast and looked away. He sat down on a chair by the fire, blinking at the sharp flames and then down at the received tea cup that had miraculously ended up in his hands. Alfons received one as well.

Falman led Alfons further away, looking a little worried. "He isn't a mute, is he?"

Alfons shook his head. "No. But... he has some sort of amnesia."

"Oh, that doesn't sound too good. We should probably bring you both to see a doctor tomorrow, to be sure you're alright."

"Well, I don't know if—" Alfons started.

"Let's discuss that later. I'll go get you some clothes, and then we'll talk," Falman said with a warm smile before he headed for the stairs without a question.

"Thanks," Alfons replied hollowly. All of this was almost too much... Still Falman was so nice to them. When the man was gone, he turned and stepped back to Al and stared wearily at him for some seconds. "How long are you going to keep quiet like this?"

Al's expression darkened as he bowed his head so his dark-gold bangs cast a long shadow over his eyes. His lips parted again. But he still didn't respond. Instead he sipped carefully at his tea and kept his attention mainly on the flames licking over the dry wood in the fireplace.

Alfons tiredly rubbed his forehead and stared indolently down into his own tea. The colour was gold.

A short while later, both Al and Alfons had slipped into drier clothes which were of course too big for Al, and Alfons almost missed his discreet attempt of clapping to adjust their size with alchemy. When that didn't work, Alphonse remained seated and looked more lost than ever.

"Now," Falman said, and sat down by the small coffee table by the fire. "You've been gone for over a month, and here you suddenly show up in the middle of the night. What happened?"

Alfons stared idly down in his untouched teacup. "I'm not sure where to start..."

Falman hesitated slightly. "Start by answering this question... Why did you two leave? We searched everywhere for you, we looked for notes or clues in your old apartment, everything."

Alfons looked up to meet his eyes, suddenly feeling a rush of bad conscience. They had just disappeared without any explanation. There were so many things that hadn't even crossed his mind while being gone, and now that he was back, it was like he had been dead. "It's complicated," he started. "I hadn't actually planned on leaving..." _(He hadn't planned on coming back either.)_ "Not even Edward had really planned to leave this world at that time. Though, I tried to make him go home. His home was on the other side of the Gate, so I wanted him to go..."

"The place Thule Society wished to go to by using the aircraft," Falman deduced.

Alfons nodded. "Edward's intention was to get rid of the Gate before anyone else could go through it. But someone called Envy showed up and made him take him through the Gate."

By those words Al gasped shortly and stared at him with huge eyes. It seemed like he acknowledged the information.

Alfons continued. "He brought me too. I was... sick."

Falman frowned, before his eyes grew in realization.

"We went to another world," Alfons said with a distant smile. "It was like a dream. I experienced a lot of things. We built an airplane. We stopped Thule Society from destroying the world. It was... unbelievable." He was almost certain Falman wouldn't believe him, but it actually seemed like he did. He had seen the Gate, which was unbelievable enough on its own, and Alfons was happy it didn't sound like he was mad. He almost felt like he was mad...

Al had brought his legs up on the chair and tucked them underneath him with one knee up, and let his arms and chin rest on top of his knee. Alfons made a small hand gesture towards him. "I met Al in the other world. We lived together... with Edward." He spoke slowly, searching Al's face to see if there was some sign that he might remember it.

Al scowled a bit, but remained silent.

"In the end, I was rejected by that world," Alfons said silently. "I know this will sound impossible. But the Gate wanted to erase me and leisurely started deleting me from people's memories. Although Edward refused to give up. When I was taken back to the Gate, both he and Alphonse came after me. But to make sure we would make it... Edward..." His jaw was shaking. "He stayed behind. He took my place."

It was then Al jumped up from his seat and the teacup shattered into a hundred sharp fragments on the floor by his feet. He stared at Alfons with hard, blaming eyes. His teeth gritted and fists tightened at his sides.

_It's your fault,_ stood written all over his bronze eyes.

Alfons understood without hearing it out loud. He stood up as well. "Al..."

"Don't call me that," Al said coldly, finally deciding to speak at last. "I don't even know who you are. And neither do I want to have anything to do with you." His voice was somewhat hoarse. "You made my brother disappear. Hadn't it been for you, he wouldn't have made that choice. He's always putting other lives in front of his own. And after you came here, you just left him without even trying to figure out a way to get him back. It_your_ fault that he's gone!"

Alfons stared at Alphonse in shock. He wanted to retort. He wanted to say something. But the words simply got stuck in his throat and suddenly he felt an unfamiliar pain in his stomach, like he had swallowed a handful of nails.

Falman stood up suddenly. "Please, son, calm yourself down," he soothed, addressing Alphonse. "I don't know how this is possible, but the best we can do now is to settle down and make the best out of things. I understand that this must be difficult for both of you, but from now on you two have to keep yourselves together and get along. For all we know, maybe Edward will come back too – the same way both of you did?"

Al turned shamefully back towards the fire.

"I'm sorry, Falman," Alfons managed. "I think I need to lie down for tonight."

_You selfish bastard, how can you just__lie down to rest when Edward is gone?_

This time it wasn't Al's angry voice speaking inside his mind, but his own.

"You'll have to manage with one guestroom," Falman said carefully. "Follow me."

Upstairs he had a guest room with two single beds on each side of the long walls. The room was small, but neat and comfortable.

"I'm sorry for the trouble," Alfons muttered.

"Don't worry," Falman said, addressing both of them. "Rest up now, then we'll talk more about this tomorrow."

When he left, Al had already picked one of the beds and curled up with his nose facing the wall.

Alfons staggered towards the other bed and buried himself underneath the quilt, his mind storing a picture of Edward's soft smiling face inside his heart. It was there so clearly that it was almost like he was real.

He had never welcomed sleep so serenely in his life. He had never realized that coming back without Edward would be even possible. Neither had he been prepared to handle Alphonse. How he must hate him...

Even if everything that had happened hadn't really reached his heart yet, his mind was finally starting to realize the hard truth.

Edward wouldn't be back this time, would he?

No.

Was Edward... _dead?_

Just the thought of it made his throat dry, his chest tighten and heart scatter like glass. Still, it was nothing compared to what he was supposed to be feeling right now. He didn't really know what he was supposed to feel, how he was supposed to react. There weren't any reasonable answers to that, although he wished that there were so he could move on with it.

It was too unbelievable to comprehend, and just as difficult to understand. Was he in shock? In denial? He really didn't understand it yet, albeit there would be plenty of time for mourning. It would come eventually, probably on the sly, as he'd heard these things always do, and there wouldn't be any getting off lightly either.

Anticipating sorrow to neutralize sorrow – that was indeed a paltry, cowardly way to atone, he told himself, knowing he was an ace practitioner of the craft. And what if it came fiercely? What if it came and wouldn't let go? Being a sorrow that had come to stay. He realized it was already over him, lurking inside his heart like a casting shadow. How could it not?

It wasn't fair. After all this time he and Edward had been together, fought together, loved together and survived together, it was not fair that they had been forced to separate from one another in the end.

The longing for Edward as he lied down to sleep that night felt like he was missing something so essential from his life that it might as well have been missing from his body. Without which he couldn't possibly be himself again.

At one point he had realized that he would eventually lose Edward, and accepted it with the decision to make Edward happy for as long as it lasted. But not like this. Eventually, it had happened and the Gate had created a new sense of fate. He had lost everything like he knew he would, and had even been prepared for it, but he had never considered the thought of having to live and deal with the loss. He wasn't supposed to be the one to return with Alphonse.

Edward had sacrificed himself to save him, and was now gone forever. Alfons found that hoping not to think of it, or even praying not to dream of it, hurt just as much. He had never been prepared to live with the loss, only to die for it…

Alfons had never been afraid of death. He had been used to the thought of death long ago. What he was afraid of was that he wouldn't be able to start anew.

Dying was of course also a paltry, cowardly way to atone. The easy way out. Without Edward, would he be willing to welcome death even sooner? Become suicidal? The thought of the prospect didn't even seem alien to him, which frightened him even more. Was he really nothing without Edward? Was he unable to function without him?

Was he just a useless, unworthy coward? Yes, maybe.

Edward had disappeared for his sake. Was the life he had died for that worthless?

_Why did you come after me? Why didn't you just stay with your little brother? Why, why, why?__You could've been happy. You would've managed without me because you'd have Alphonse._

Alfons pressed his nose tightly into his pillow. To stop the new flow.

"_Take care of him for me, Alfons…"_

Edward's last words again. They always seemed replay inside him, inside his heart, over and over again like a whisper, a requiem.

"But he doesn't remember me," Alfons whispered. "He doesn't even _want_ to remember me." It wasn't easy to deal with someone who didn't want to be dealt with any way. Someone who wasn't even talking to him.

Inside his heart Edward's golden eyes looked slightly indignant at his miserable form, like being disbelieving of how fast Alfons had given up on everything, and Alfons felt ashamed. "I know, you must be disappointed in me," he muttered into the fabric. "I'm pathetic. I'm selfish." He sat up in bed and hugged around his knees, resting his forehead in his arms.

No matter how hopeless, no matter how much he wanted to pity himself, he couldn't. A soft groan escaped his lips. "I'll try. I'll try all I can."

Edward's last words had been directed to him and they meant too much to him for him to simply ignore them. Ignoring them was out of the question. No matter how grave this situation looked.

Those last words were the main reason why Alfons couldn't afford to take any more easy ways out of his own misery. He had to be here for Al, amnesia or not. He had to act strong, and help him start a new life here.

Alfons let out a deep sigh. How he missed Amestris. Munich was always so cold, sad and grey, and he didn't even want to get out of bed to meet it. He had missed Munich sometimes while being in Amestris, but now he missed the other world more. Especially when he looked at Al. Al reminded him of everything Amestris had been like, everything they had been fighting for, everything he had been through together with Edward. He would make damn sure all that hadn't been for nothing!

Yes, now they were both in the wrong world. But it was still a world, nonetheless.

In time, maybe they both would learn to atone, and help each other move on. Al just needed a small push in the right direction. Alfons figured, when he had helped Al doing that, maybe he could figure out his own way of atonement. Or maybe being Al's new substitute big brother was his penance?

So far he had failed miserably. He would start again first thing in the morning.

_I promise._


	2. Strangers

I'm so happy for all the reviews the first chapter hauled in! I hope the 2nd chapter will live up to it.

What intrigued me the most is how some of you mentioned music you listen to and associate with this story. Music has always been the main source of inspiration to me. This story has been written while listening to soundtracks like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Wolf's Rain. Calm, emotional, ominous tracks. If you listen to something particular while reading, please share it with me. :)

Aevium is still the beta-reader of this story and the very reason for this story's content! Every scrap, word and moment of this story is dedicated to her for being an awesome friend and supporter.

Thank you all!

**

* * *

CHAPTER 2: STRANGERS**

Al pretended to be asleep until the breaths of the stranger he shared the bedroom with finally deepened and soothed out. Subsequently he turned away from the wall and stared up in the ceiling, eyes wide open and feeling immediately embittered. Hadn't it been for this look-alike stranger he would've been together with his brother now. Everything would have been a bit easier if he could just remember everything that had happened recently. He knew that his brother had been through a lot of stress with the military, partly because the terrorist organization had set him up.

Al figured the Gate must have removed pieces of his memory, leaving his mind like an unsorted map of images and his memories full of holes. Too many things ran through his mind so he would never be able to sleep, let alone rest.

Why had the stranger acted like that anyway? He cried like a weakling, like he had the right to be that upset! If someone should be upset it would be Al. He had not _asked_ to come to this place, that he was certain of. Why couldn't he and Edward have stayed in their own world? He wished he could remember that part...

_Why had Edward let him go alone to this __alien world with that person?_

He wouldn't say he wasn't used to having lost his big brother. But he was also used to missing him dearly.

"_You're alone again, aren't you, kiddo?"_

Al's scowled a bit, uncertain if the words had been in his mind or not. But then he suddenly felt another unexpected... _presence_. His eyes widened and he sat up in bed in one abrupt move. That voice... He was certain the words had been said. Where had it come from? There was something disturbingly familiar with it. His fingers clutched around the edge of the quilt a bit tighter as he scanned the dim room, feeling slightly anxious.

"_Don't be afraid."_ An image of a man emerged by the foot of his bed as he sat down with his back resting against the wall, and one knee up to rest his elbow on.

Al rubbed his eyes a bit. Was he imagining things? Was he dreaming? But no matter how much he rubbed and pinched himself, the man didn't disappear. Al swallowed thickly, and his eyes scanned the room again, until they fixed on the stranger in the other bed.

"_He's asleep,"_ Schiller confirmed.

Al turned back to the man again, taking a deep breath. He was staring at the very same man that had held him a prisoner when Thule Society terrorized Amestris. Despite having been a prisoner, Al had somehow created a strong bond to the man. Schiller had died during the time Edward came to rescue him.

"Mr. Schiller... what are you doing here?" His voice was a small shaky whisper. "How is this even possible? You can't be... real."

Schiller scoffed softly. _"I am dead. But my soul connected to you and transferred a part of my consciousness into yours while you were inside the Gate, and I followed you here to this world."_

Al let out a short gasp. "Connected to me, how?"

"_You have a strong soul,"_ Schiller said. _"I felt it when you did alchemy inside the Gate and I recognized your pure soul. It was your soul that changed mine. That's why I followed you and ended up here beside you."_

Al stared at him in disbelief. "I'm not crazy, am I? Am I seeing ghosts?"

"_Perhaps I'm __a kind of ghost,"_ Schiller admitted. _"You're probably the only one who is able to see and hear me. Besides, I only managed to come to the surface of your soul because you were feeling troubled."_

"You bet I am..." Al muttered, tiredly rubbing his forehead. This was insane. "Does this mean... You've become a second soul inside my body?"

Schiller shrugged. _"I'm a part of you. It wasn't my intention to follow you this far. I'm afraid I won't be able to leave for a while."_

"What do you mean?"

"_My soul isn't a part of your body, but perhaps a small part of your soul. You'll always still be you, but I won't be able to rest before you do."_

Al's eyes widened. "You mean, your soul will die with me." He made sure to speak in a low voice so he wouldn't wake up the other.

"_I think so."_

Al didn't know what to believe. "But... what do you want? Maybe I can make alchemy work and bring you to rest?"

Schiller closed his eyes with a small smile and rested his head back against the wall. _"That would endanger you, wouldn't it?"_

Al stammered.

"_Don't think of me, kiddo,"_ Schiller said and fixed his steel eyes on him again. _"I will not bother you if you don't want me here."_

"No, that's not it," Al said fast. "I was just... surprised of course. I didn't know this was even possible. But when that is said, I'm kind of happy I'm able to talk to you again. I... I was sad when I heard you had died."

"_Why?"_ Schiller asked. _"You were supposed to be glad after what I did to you."_

As a response to the images of cold stone walls and chains, along with the torturing pain came to the surface of Al's mind, and he shivered.

"You weren't like the others," Al said. "You would've helped me sooner if you could have."

Schiller stared at him in quiet amusement. _"I could never forget the warmth of your heart."_

Al smiled timidly. "I never got to thank you for what you did. You let my brother escape, and then..." He couldn't say it out loud.

"_I killed myself,"_ Schiller said.

Al shuddered. "To save us."

"_I don't regret it__."_ Schiller nodded to himself. _"The reason I'm here is that something has troubled your soul. Tell me what it is."_

Al bowed his head. "Everything is ruined..."

"_You're brother didn't make it, did he_?" Schiller always understood so much.

Al brought his knees up to his chest and hugged around them. "No. He sacrificed himself for a complete stranger..."

"_I don't think he's a stranger to your brother,"_ Schiller interpreted.

"Perhaps not... But, why did this have to happen? I can't live here like this. What should I do?"

"_Have you gotten a chance to see this world yet?"_ Schiller asked softly. _"Or even Munich?"_

"No," Al confessed.

"_You might like it. And maybe your brother __will find a way. Your brother is strong."_

"Everyone who doesn't know what really happened says that," Al muttered. "I don't know exactly what happened either... but that stranger does. And he doesn't seem to believe at all that my brother will ever be back."

"_Then, why don't you ask him?"_ Schiller suggested.

Al fell silent for a while and his eyes narrowed before he spoke again. "He's an idiot... I'll figure out a way to get my brother back on my own." Then he lightened up slightly. "Since you've somehow become a part of me... do you happen to know anything about my lost memories?"

The dark-haired man shook his head. _"No, I'm sorry, kiddo. You have to figure that one out on your own."_

Al sighed. "I thought you might say that."

"_You should be sleeping, kiddo,"_ Schiller said.

"I'm really awake still, aren't I?" Al had still trouble accepting this, he didn't believe in ghosts, but somehow it didn't bother him as much as it should have. It was like Schiller's ghost was here to look after him in his brother's place.

Schiller stood up from his bed. The weight on his bed didn't even shift when the man moved, like he was weightless. He stepped beside Al, his hand lifted and lightly ruffled his hair. _"Lie down."_

Al obliged slowly and let the man tuck him into the warm covers.

"_Close your eyes."_

Al did, and felt immediately drowsier. When he dared open his eyes again, the man was gone.

* * *

He must have dozed off eventually, because the next thing he knew there was a pale glow of thin sunlight streaming through the split of the curtains, and he heard the shifting sounds of someone stepping out of bed across the room. As the stranger's footsteps headed quietly out of the bedroom, Al kept his eyes closed and laid still. He was still not much in the mood to face the person who had cost him his brother in exchange.

When he was gone, Al sat up slowly and put his feet on the chilly floor. His stomach complained slightly as he moved, and he realized how long it had been since had eaten anything.

As he stepped out of the bedroom he heard quiet voices and the clanking of dishes downstairs. It seemed like Vato Falman had already awakened as well. Alphonse went slowly down the creaky old staircase and hesitated a moment before entering the kitchen. It had turned quiet, but then he heard Falman's inviting voice.

"Please come in and join us, Alphonse."

Al obliged and conquered the last steps into the kitchen, seeing his bleary-eyed look-alike sitting by the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of him and Vato Falman standing by the stove.

"Just sit down. Do you like eggs? Coffee?"

"Yes, please." It was the first thing he had even said to the man. He couldn't believe his own rudeness from last night. Usually he didn't even drink much coffee, but right now he felt like he needed some anyway. He felt awfully ashamed of his behaviour and wanted to apologize. But he didn't really know how to. He didn't want to apologize about _everything_, he had the right to be upset. His brother was missing, but who was trying to get him back? No one.

Al immediately noted how his look-alike averted from any kind of eye contact with him as he slipped down on a chair by the table. Falman handed him a cup of coffee and Al got distracted by observing the content of it.

The atmosphere was obviously unpleasant, and Falman stared perplexed from one to another, scratching his temple. "You had us all wondering," he started, addressing Alfons. "One day you were happily working and making progress on our new project, and the next you suddenly disappeared. We got worried that something terrible had happened."

"Kind of," Alfons murmured. "Both terrible and wonderful things happened. But we got by... as long as it lasted."

"We figured you both had gone after Thule Society," Falman said, leaning against the counter and crossed his arms. "I could rest peacefully with that solution in mind. They would probably make trouble wherever they were, and someone had to do something."

"We got some help from the military in the other world," Alfons told him. "In the end we managed to prevent a great disaster in Edward's world." Even if it sounded like good news, the words sounded like someone had died.

Which was pretty much true.

"Sounds like a lot was going on," Falman added. "Hughes and I both agreed that it would be better if more people didn't figure out where you both had gone. So we made up a story that the organization was on the loose and had kidnapped you. Which they did in the first place, if I've understood correctly."

"When all of this started, yes," Alfons confirmed, shuddering from the unpleasant memories. "So, they've been looking for us in the wrong places?"

"Yeah," Falman said. "It has been hard for Hughes, who had to lie about the truth. But it was more important to keep the Gate a secret. We couldn't risk sending more people through."And if someone from Thule Society showed up again, they would've been caught and brought in."

"I'm glad you didn't send people into the Gate after us," Alfons said. "It would've complicated things more than they already were. I was surprised to see the automobile sitting there still though."

"Yes, we let it be. We thought you might need it if you ever came back." He smiled.

"Thanks." Alfons sipped at his coffee. Still, a couple of things were bothering him. "No one is monitoring the place, right?"

"Not that I know of," Falman said. "Why?"

"There was a guy who watched us arrive here last night," Alfons replied in a low voice. "It gave me a creepy feeling."

"What about if my brother comes back at the same place?" Al said, finally opening his mouth into the conversation for the first time, drawing both of the men's attention to him. "No one would know that he has returned, and he'd be all alone in the cold. He might die." His hands were tightening around the coffee cup, which he had yet to drink.

Alfons looked uncomfortable and Falman nodded.

"That's true," the older man said. "We might have to send people out to guard the building in case that happens."

"There's no building anymore," Alfons managed thickly.

"What?" Falman frowned.

"The building is gone," he elaborated. "I think it happened when we came back. I remember Edward had a theory that the Gate would annihilate everything close to it before it's..." he paused to take a deep breath, "...destroyed."

"So," Falman said slowly, "you say that the Gate is gone?"

Alfons returned a brisk nod, and Al scowled at them both.

"Even if it's not there anymore, that doesn't mean that my brother can't open it again," Al said pointedly. "He'll do anything to get back!"

Alfons hated himself for not having a suitable answer to come with. How could Al be so sure? Probably because he hadn't seen the look on Edward's face, the resignation in his eyes, as he said: _Don't try to get me back._

"I will talk to Hughes about this," Falman said and when Alfons looked unsure of the suggestion, he added: "With certainty that the truth will stay between him and us. The most important thing is that Edward will be taken care of if he should arrive here."

Al looked a bit more pleased by that, so Alfons nodded. "Of course."

"In the meantime, what will you do?" Falman asked, as he served them each plate with toast and eggs.

"There's not much of a choice," Alfons said. "We have to move on."

Al sent him a suspicious scowl before becoming busy in devouring his food. It tasted really good, and his stomach made a grateful worshipping motion towards the cook.

"You're welcome back on our old team," Falman said with a smile.

Alfons actually lightened up a little. He wouldn't ever take that opportunity for granted. The cost of workers and keeping the projects in that business running was sky high. "I really appreciate that. Thank you."

"You didn't think we wouldn't want you back, did you?" Falman chuckled merrily.

Alfons smiled weakly back and hardly noticed that it became fairly difficult to swallow again. "I'll find a new flat to rent as well, and then we'll manage somehow."

Al frowned at the context of that sentence. "Are we going to...?" _... live together?_

Alfons returned the frown. "Where else would you live? At an orphanage?" He almost regretted saying it the moment after he did, but to his surprise Al kept quiet at that and continued eating slowly with his eyes deeply focused on his plate. Alfons sustained in a slightly softer tone. "We'll figure it out... We'll find a good school for you and... then you'll be fit to manage on your own eventually."

Al scowled back up at him again. He didn't really mind the thought of going to school, but talking about those kinds of things _now already?_ And why was he _always_ talking like Edward would never come back?

"_Eventually_ will be when I have my brother back, thanks," Al returned frostily. _And we'll manage perfectly well without you._

Alfons' lips tightened, but kept quiet at that and continued eating. Even if he didn't really feel like eating much anymore. All this was almost too much already.

Falman stared helplessly from one to another, seeming out of ideas to lighten up the mood by the kitchen table. "I'll go call Hughes right away and ask him to come over." He stepped out of the kitchen and made sure he wouldn't be in immediate hearing distance of the two young boys. Maybe they could sort everything out easier if he wasn't there?

Alfons wiped his lips with his palm, took a deep breath and fixed his eyes back on Alphonse again. It was hard to imagine that everything he had worked out with Al in the past was now gone, and that he had to start completely anew with circumstances even worse than last time. Last time Edward had at least been there. Al hadn't liked him very much in the beginning at that time either, but it had been Edward who had coaxed him in the right direction. Now Alfons had to do everything on his own, and he didn't know if he could. How could he possibly restore a friendship that didn't even exist anymore? Neither did he want to break off his bond to Al and simply leave him with someone else to take care of him... He couldn't do that. He had promised...

"Alphonse," he said, drawing the other one's attention and decided he might as well lay down completely flat. "I'm really sorry for everything. I'm sorry that your brother is gone, that you're stuck here with me, far away from your own world. I wish there was something I could do to change this situation, but I'm afraid there isn't. At least not right now." He sighed deeply. "I'm fairly sure Edward felt pretty much the same as you when he was in your shoes over two years ago."

Al had been about to reply with a strong voice after his first sentence, but as soon as Edward's name was mentioned, his jaw went slack and his lips closed shut. Instead he seemed to anticipate the next thing Alfons was about to say, so Alfons continued.

"I'll try to explain everything, if you'll let me. How I met Edward and how I met you."

Al nodded slowly. Fair enough.

Alfons started off slowly from the beginning. "When I first met him he was lost and miserable and he never committed himself to other people, since he was always determined to find a way to go back. That led him to know me, because he believed that he could use rocket science to get closer to his own world. Of course, no one would believe him if he told them where he was from, but despite that he told me. After some time, I started to believe him even if the truth went against almost every significant knowledge of science in this world. Later we travelled through the Gate together, as you already know, and Edward was set upon meeting up with you again."

Al knew the next part of the story. "When he got back... I wasn't there." He still regretted that, his stupidity and naivety at that time. He had been captured by Thule Society, and Edward had gone to rescue him.

Alfons nodded slowly. "After we found you," he continued, "that was the first time you met me."

Al wrung his brain, and his mind successfully found the bits of the moment he could still remember. There was a beach and his big brother lay in the wet sand, unconscious. Bits and pieces of the moment were missing, and Al sat for a long time, staring idly out in space while trying to sort the bits like a jigsaw puzzle. At some point he had made a dehydrating array to dry his brother's wet clothes, he remembered that clearly. But he was pretty sure he had used it more than once at that time, not only drying Edward's clothes, but also someone else's other than himself.

His eyes fixed upon the stranger again. His mind was screaming at him that there was something essentially important missing from his memories considering this person, and that he was somehow supposed to remember him.

"You were there," Al whispered. "But I can't see you."

And it seemed like it happened so long ago. It was from _that_ very moment the holes in his memories started. From the moment he met this stranger. Could it be that there was only memories considering this person he was missing out on?

Alfons smiled timidly. So it was really only him Al didn't remember. He seemed to still have memories from his previous time with his brother. "I guess... we simply have to start all over again," he said.

Al's shoulders sank a bit, before agreeing. This person had known his brother, after all. "You already know so much about me, but I don't even know your name."

Alfons wanted to hit himself. He hadn't even thought of that. He really wished he had tried to speak with Al sooner. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm Alfons Heiderich." He stretched his hand across the table, his palm open and inviting Al to take it.

Al lifted his hand slowly and accepted the hand. "Most people call me Al." Then he added in a mutter. "As you probably already know."

Alfons chuckled softly. "Yeah..." He felt slightly better now that Al was actually talking to him and didn't constantly blame him for Edward's d... _(he didn't want to think death!)_ disappearance.

A silence fell over them again, but not as uncomfortable as before. Not long after, Falman returned into the kitchen.

"I spoke to Officer Hughes," he informed. "He's on his way here."

"Hughes," Al repeated anticipating. "I think I knew his parallel person."

Alfons nodded. "You did." He knew because the Maes Hughes in the other world had written a certain report which had saved him from a certain cruel commanding officer. "He's a police officer here." Speaking like that didn't even seem strange to him anymore. Being back here now, everything about two worlds was so natural, and he understood how Edward must have felt being in a world where nothing of the sort existed. There hadn't been much more tolerance of the prospect in Amestris, but at least most people had believed it could be possible.

"Thank you for the breakfast," Al said politely to Falman.

"You're welcome, lad," Falman replied with a humble chuckle. It looked like the two had talked a bit and the atmosphere in the kitchen had lightened considerably while he had been gone. He was relieved of that. "I'll put on some more coffee," he proffered.

Alfons helped clearing off the table as the doorbell rang a short while later. He felt an anticipating curl inside his stomach at the thought of meeting Officer Maes Hughes again. Hadn't it been for him, he probably wouldn't have lived long enough to wake up again at the hospital at the time he was shot. He had heard the story from Edward, that Hughes had saved them and shot General Hess before the General had killed them, driven mad by Dietlinde Eckart's betrayal.

Falman had gone to answer the door, and came back followed by the Officer with his police hat underneath his arm. His expecting eyes landed amusedly on Alfons and then Alphonse.

"I honestly thought the old man was joking," he chuckled. "How are you, Alfons? It's nice to see you again."

Alfons couldn't possibly get himself to say that he was fine. He stepped to meet the Officer's outstretched hand to shake it. "I'm holding up," he said and made an attempt to smile.

"And who might this be?" Hughes said, turning to Al. "I didn't know you had a little brother."

Al rose slowly from his seat. "I'm not—"

"He's not my brother," Alfons said, before Al said it. "He's Edward's."

"Really? I could have sworn you two look too much alike to not be related," Maes Hughes chuckled. He shook Al's hand as well. "I'm Maes Hughes."

"Alphonse Elric," Al answered.

"So where is your brother Edward hiding?" Maes wanted to know. "He's sure made a lot of trouble, but I'd like to see him again too."

"That's one of the issues here," Falman butted in. "Edward Elric has disappeared on their way back."

Hughes scowled at that. "And it has something to do with that Gate, I reckon?"

Falman nodded.

"The Gate is gone too," Alfons said, rubbing his aching forehead. "Can I ask you something? What day and date is it?"

"It's Saturday," Falman said. "December 8th, 1923."

Alfons scowled forlornly. It felt like it had been forever since he left this world, but it really wasn't. He had disappeared with Edward in the end of October. He had only been gone for a little over a month.

Al rose from the table, his hands pressing a bit tightly against the table flat. "Even if the Gate is gone, my brother isn't." His eyes fixed upon the Officer. "Can you help us keep an eye on the place where the Gate used to be?"

"You think he'll show up at the same place?" Hughes said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

Al nodded.

"I will see what I can do," the Officer nodded. "In the meantime, what will you guys do?"

Alfons leaned against the counter, his eyes glued at the floor. He didn't really want to do much, but he knew what he had to. "We need to find someplace to live."

Hughes turned to him with his hands on his hips. "That's a logical place to start. Gracia will probably let you have your apartment back, I'm sure."

Alfons stared at him at that in surprise. "What? She hasn't rented it out?"

"Of course not. She expected you to return someday." Hughes grinned. "And you have an awful lot of things stuffed into that place. Besides, Gracia is partly living at my place now. I've asked her to marry me."

Alfons smiled a small smile. He remembered how Edward had always urged Hughes to pop out the question to her. "That's great. Congratulations. I guess I'll go visit her right away."

"Remember, I still think you should get a doctor to look at the both of you," Falman reminded him.

"I'm f..." He changed his mind. "Alright." Alfons stepped away from the counter and continued towards the hall.

"I'll drive you," Hughes offered.

"Thanks." Alfons turned to Al, who had seated himself by the kitchen table again since he didn't seem to know where to be. "Are you coming?"

Al hesitated for a second before he stood up.

"I'll have some dinner ready at four o'clock," Falman said.

Alfons smiled. He was happy he had come to Falman first. He didn't know of anyone who represented a better father than him. "Thank you, sir."

Al trotted after him to the hall without a word.

"It's a short drive to the doctor's office," Hughes said. "If you want, I can take you directly to Gracia afterwards. She works in her flower shop till three o'clock today."

"It's alright," Alfons said. "It isn't far to walk." And he thought he might need some time for him and Al to adjust to each other alone. Especially Al. "Maybe you could call her and tell her we're here so she won't faint." He borrowed a jacket from Falman which was a bit too big for him, but at least it was better than walking around in mainly a thin shirt.

Hughes laughed at what he had said. "She's a strong woman, she can handle it. But I'll call her anyway. I can never get enough of her sweet voice!"

Alfons got into the auto in the passenger seat with an involuntary sigh. He missed the sound of Edward's voice too. The thought that he would never hear it again reminded him of how depressed he was. Real depression for him was not really sobbing and crying and feeling pity in himself. It was rather the entire reduction of feelings. Like he was declining what he was supposed to be feeling, only that he didn't know what he was supposed to feel. How was he supposed to comprehend anything?

If Al hadn't been there, he might have been even more clueless. At least he could concentrate on Al. Al needed someone who could help him manage and fit into this world.

Or, was it that he needed Al more than Al needed him?

Alfons was silent all the way to the doctor's office. Hughes had been caught into a more cheery conversation with Alphonse. At least _Hughes_ was cheery.

"If you need anything, Gracia and I will help you, just name it," he said. "Why don't you two spend Christmas with us? Gracia would be thrilled!"

"That sounds nice," Al said feebly.

Alfons stared apathetically out the window. He had spent one Christmas with Edward once before. The university had been closed during the holidays, and none of them had had any particular place to go. He couldn't afford going home to Germany for only ten days, and neither did Edward. Though, Van Hohenheim had rented a small apartment in Romania for them and they had spent the Christmas there, only the two of them. It had been long before their relationship had developed into something more than friendship, but it had been some of the happiest days of his life. It had been before he knew about the consumption, Thule Society or the Gate. It had been only him and Edward.

Even with Al here with him, he felt so ridiculously alone.

Alfons touched his own chest by the thought of the consumption. He knew the illness was still gone from his body, like it had been in Amestris. He could breathe just fine, and his lungs didn't hurt. It was almost too good to be true. Before Munich had been all about the rocket, Edward and the consumption. That had been his very life. It was odd being here without it, to know that he could continue his work in his own world, free of the illness and the claws of death stretching after him wherever he went.

Still, that was not nearly enough. Alfons would have traded his health to get Edward back any day.

"Here we are," Hughes announced. "Will you be alright, or do you want me to come with you?"

"No, this is fine," Alfons replied. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem!" Hughes returned with a smile. "I'll probably see you over at Gracia's. You'll stop by there later, right?"

"Yeah," Alfons said, forcing another smile and stepping out of the auto. For a moment he thought Al looked about as reluctant of coming with him as he did last night, but then he stepped out of the auto as well.

"Goodbye, sir," he said politely.

"Just call me Maes, kid," Hughes replied and waved. "See you!"

Alfons and Al saw the automobile disappear around the corner of the street where they were left on the sidewalk. The doctor's office was just a few blocks away and Alfons turned to the younger. "Let's go have your check-up then."

Al followed indisposed after him. "I don't really need it, I'm not hurt."

"It's just to be safe," Alfons replied. "Your brother would've insisted on it too." He had said it even before thinking.

Al frowned up at him. "How come you know my brother so well?"

Alfons swallowed. "Haven't I told you that already? We were good friends, and we lived together for a long time." God, he didn't want to tell Al about the relationship he had had with his brother. He hadn't taken it very easy the first time.

Al went silent again and they reached the entrance to the doctor's office. Inside were chairs with awaiting patients and a couple of kids playing in a corner for children. Alfons stepped over to the reception desk with Al following slowly after.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the lady asked kindly.

Alfons gestured at Al. "He needs a check-up."

She smiled at them both. "Aw, what a cute little brother you have. What's your name?" she asked Alphonse, who seemed more and more reluctant to be there.

"Alphonse Elric," he muttered.

"Alright," she said and jotted something down into a form. "Your date of birth?"

"April fifteenth, nineteen hu—"

"Nineteen ten," Alfons hurriedly interrupted him and received an annoyed and questioning look from the younger.

The woman stared at them for a moment, before continuing filling out the form. "Alright. Just sit down and I'll call your name when it's your turn."

Good thing he had remembered in time that the world's year count was different by six years. In the other world Al was born in 1900, but in this world it would be 1910, considering his current body's age.

"Why did you tell her that?" Alphonse wanted to know as they found a couple of available seats.

"The year is 1923 here," Alfons said. _Soon 1924._ He didn't have to elaborate. Alphonse came to a silent understanding. His appearance was his early teens, whether he liked it or not.

They were silent as they waited, and Al's leg started swinging impatiently back and forth, like a small boy would do when he was bored. Alfons figured he wasn't actually the best company right now, and neither did he have much to talk to Al about – at least not here in front of other people's ears. But he wished he could stop Al's leg from swinging like that. It made him restless as well. His eyes fell on a stand with magazines and newspapers. Maybe he could find something for Al to read.

He stood up and stepped over to the stand, wondering what would possibly interest Al that didn't have anything to do with alchemy. He picked out one called _Illustrated Inventions of Science_ and a newspaper for himself. He hadn't read a single newspaper since the last time he was in Munich.

He went back to Al and handed him the magazine. "Here, you can read this while we wait."

Al accepted the magazine slowly. "What is it?"

"It's about different sciences and inventions of this world," Alfons replied, making sure to speak low so only Al would hear. "This world has more of those things since alchemy isn't known here."

"Oh." Al stared at the photograph on the front. He looked a bit curious at least, Alfons concluded, and felt relieved that his plan had worked and had gotten Al to concentrate on other things than being bored.

A while later he had scanned through the most important headlines of his newspaper without finding anything interesting, and his eyes landed back on Al for a moment. The younger boy looked totally absorbed in what he was reading, and didn't miss out on a single article on each page.

Around them people were chatting in low voices, but Alfons noted how comfortable he was around German again. He hadn't really thought about it until now, but he had gone back to speaking German, and Al was speaking it too. It was different from the time in the other world where he had suddenly spoke Amestrian one moment and confusedly started speaking German the next. Al had simply looked at him funny.

Alfons smiled inwardly at the thought. Although now Al probably couldn't remember it.

Then the doctor suddenly appeared from a door innermost in the room and called: "Alphonse Elric."

Al was still fully engrossed in reading and didn't seem to have even heard him, and Alfons poked his shoulder to get his attention. "The doctor will see you now."

"Oh." Al didn't look like he wanted to leave the magazine, but unwillingly rose and put it down on his chair.

The doctor smiled at him. "You can call me Dr. Marco. This way, Alphonse."

Al recognized the man immediately and wondered if he would keep seeing these familiar faces every day for the rest if his life. For some reason he felt suddenly a bit nervous and cast a hesitant look back at Alfons Heiderich.

Alfons smiled at him, noticing the sudden uncertainty reflecting in Al's eyes. "It won't take long," he said helpfully. But then he thought better of it. "Uhm, I can come with you if you want."

Al's lips thinned to a straight line and nodded curtly. "If you don't mind."

"Of course not." Feeling lightly surprised that Al actually wanted him to come, Alfons rose too and stepped beside Al over to the doctor.

"It's completely alright if you want your brother to come with you," the doctor said friendly. "Come this way, please."

Al didn't reply and simply followed after the man in the white overcoat. He hardly wanted to admit to himself that he felt a bit less anxious when Alfons Heiderich was with him inside, because what if the doctor asked him something common he couldn't reply? There could be several other things about this world he didn't know about, just like the fact that the year was different from his own.

Doctor Marco led the way down a hall and into an exam room. "Have a seat at the exam table, Alphonse. You can start by removing your coat and your shirt."

Al made his way towards the examination table, looking slightly disgruntled, but didn't complain. The examination table was too high for his feet to reach down to the floor as he settled on top of the edge of it. Then he wrung off his coat and pulled the borrowed shirt over his head.

Alfons sat down in a chair by the wall, quietly turning his attention at the doctor who suddenly addressed him.

"When was the last time your brother had an examination?"

Alfons hesitated. Each and every person they met just assumed that he was Al's big brother. He wondered how Al silently felt about that. He was sure he wouldn't have liked it if he had been Al, but he didn't say anything against it. "It's been a while..." he replied.

"His name wasn't in my records, so I assumed he'd been at a different doctor before," Doctor Marco said.

"Yeah, we just moved here," Alfons said to cover over the subject.

"I see. Well then," Dr. Marco turned to Al. "How do you feel, Alphonse? Any aches or dizziness?"

Al shook his head. "I'm fine, really." He considered telling the doctor about his amnesia, but decided it wouldn't be much point since his memories had been taken by the Gate. There was no way he would get them back anyway.

"That's good, but let's listen to it just to be sure." The doctor sat down on a stool in front of Al and adjusted a stethoscope against his bare chest. "Take some deep breaths for me."

Al shivered a little from the cold flat of the stethoscope and took a couple of breaths.

"That's good," Dr. Marco complimented. "Your heart sounds normal. Now I'll check your blood pressure." He fastened a black cuff around Al's upper arm, and Al felt how it constricted around his arm as he started pumping, then "whooshed" as it released.

"Your blood pressure is normal as well," Dr. Marco announced. "To me it seems that you're completely healthy. Although, I will take a small blood test from you as well."

Al nodded slowly. "Okay." He had an average affinity to needles in contradiction to his brother who despised them like a plague. Most of all he was glad he would be done here soon. Somehow he would soon start to work out a way to get his brother out of the Gate. He just wished he knew more. He doubted there was much information about that stored up somewhere in this world. Although, he would still look.

The doctor dabbed a cotton ball moist with alcohol against the inside of his elbow to clean the skin. "You're not afraid of needles, are you?" the doctor asked conversationally.

"No, that's alright."

"A brave boy, aren't you? Here we go." Dr. Marco slid the needle slowly inside his arm and pulled a generous amount of blood back out, into the tube.

Al looked away. Even if he was fine with needles, blood was something completely different.

"There, all done," the doctor said cheerfully. He tapped a cotton ball over the sting to stop the seeping blood flow, and then turned to Alfons. "The results will be done in about a week. Most likely, he's all good."

"Thank you, doctor," Alfons said.

Al slid down from the examination table and started redressing his shirt. Then he took his red coat under his arm and gave Alfons a look. "Shouldn't you get yourself examined as well?"

Alfons returned an unaffected smile. "There's no need." He wasn't sick anymore, after all.

"If you say so," the doctor beamed.

"Goodbye, sir," Al said.

"Good day, son!"

They went out of the room and Alfons noticed Al's longing eyes in the direction of the magazine he had been reading as they passed by the waiting room. With an inward smile, Alfons turned for the door again and held it up for Al.

"Gracia's flower shop isn't very far from here," he said. "You don't mind walking there, right?"

"No, it's fine," Al said.

"I'm impressed that you're this calm around needles," Alfons said, trying to sound cheerful. "I know how much Edward hated them."

"_Hates_," Al corrected frostily.

Alfons halted hesitantly. "What?"

"He hates them," Al said. "Not hated."

Alfons slowly continued walking again. "Oh... Right."

* * *

There was a knock on the door of his office, barely a few minutes after the two boys had left, and the doctor wondered if one of them had forgotten about something. "Come in," he called.

The door opened, and a man dressed in a white trench coat and a white suit underneath stepped inside. "Hello doctor," the visitor said. He closed the door.

"Hello, and who might you be?" Dr. Marco asked puzzled.

"You're only required to answer my questions, not ask any," the man informed. "I want all the information you have on that boy you just examined."

The doctor frowned. "I'm afraid I don't lend out my patients' information like that."

"Highly regrettable." The visitor pointed a gun at the doctor. "I'm afraid I'll need it, _quietly,_ no matter what cost. If you refuse to cooperate, I will kill someone close to you."

With trembling hands, the doctor waved them in front of himself to calm down the intruder. "I'm sure we can work this out somehow, just put that gun away."

"The data and the blood sample, doctor," the visitor said. "If you please."

* * *

"What are we doing here?" Al asked half-heartedly as Alfons stopped by a small shop.

"Just wait here, I'll be right back," Alfons said evenly.

Al was left outside on the sidewalk and stared around at the street they were in. There were a lot of people hasting by, fighting their way through the snow. Most of the city was covered in a thick layer of white, but the sky was clear blue today. Still the temperature was low and his coat was thin. Al tucked his red coat a little tighter around himself and got occupied by staring into the windows of the shop next to the one Alfons had gone into. It was selling all kinds of pipes, tobacco and liquor. It reminded him of Granny Pinako back home, and he immediately missed home. He wondered how Winry was. He hadn't realized it until now; he would actually never see her again.

"Al," a voice said behind him, and he quickly turned away from the window and his thoughts. Alfons smiled softly and handed him a small plastic bag. "Here."

Al accepted it slowly and looked inside. There he found a new copy of the magazine he had fancied at the doctor's office. His lips parted in wonder. "Thank you..."

"No problem," Alfons said. "Let's go and meet up with Gracia."

Al looked back up at him and nodded. "M-m." Even if he didn't know much about this stranger yet, he didn't feel like that much of a stranger anymore now that he knew his name. But it would be even better if Al had known for sure that Alfons Heiderich actually believed that his brother wasn't dead.

Recently he had begun to learn a lot of new things. Not only new things about this world, but also about himself. His brother, Schiller, Alfons Heiderich. They were all important to him in some sort of way. This was only the beginning of a new purpose.

It was merely an instinct, human nature, the need to solve the mysteries of life, even when the simplest questions seldom could be answered. Why was he here?

What was really the soul? Was it something existing in one's mind or one's heart? Was it really something spiritual, something _ghost-like_, which could be visualized after death?

Where could he go next to find a lead to the last resolve?

Sometimes the questions were equally important as the answers.

Alphonse regarded the bag in his hand with the magazine, realizing that he wanted to know more about this strange, new world. He might not particularly like it, but he wasn't going to let it stop him. Somewhere, there had to be something he could find that had a certain connection to his own world, something he could use to pull his brother out of the Gate.

This was a start.


	3. Confrontation

**CHAPTER 3: CONFRONTATION**

The streets of Munich were filled with people buying Christmas presents or otherwise simply preparing for the holidays. Alfons had almost forgotten all about those kind of ordinary things and right now, he considered Christmas to be the least important thing in the world and didn't understand why a holiday like that even mattered.

Gracia's flower shop was as always in full bloom even in the middle of December, the area around the entrance decorated with flowers and fir.

Alfons cast a glance up towards the third floor from the outside, at what had once been his and Edward's kitchen window pointing down at the street at the front of the house. It was dark. Maybe he was crazy, but somehow he had a feeling, a faint hope, that Edward would be waiting for them in that apartment. Maybe he had managed to escape the Gate and ended up somewhere else and then found his way back to their old place first?

Edward belonged in this setting too much, so he couldn't help it. The possibility that everything might even be a prank, a setup, was too tempting to consider. What if Edward suddenly jumped out in front of him with a big grin and said: "Sorry, I'm late!"? He'd laugh at his shocked expression and continue with: "Did you actually think I was gone? You're such a stupid moron. So, what did I miss?"

In his mind he was pulling Edward into a kiss and his eyes felt warm when Gracia opened the front door to the shop.

"Alfons!" She greeted them both with a smile. "And hi there, Alphonse. It's very nice to finally meet you."

Al stood a little petrified and stared at her with wide eyes, and Alfons remembered how Edward had done the exact same thing over a year ago when he had first met her. "Hello Gracia, I reckon Hughes has filled you in a bit," he said, getting straight to the point.

"Briefly, yes. I really can't believe you're here," she marvelled and pulled them both into a warm hug. "Please, come in and get warm."

Gracia beckoned the two of them inside in front of her and through the shop until they found themselves in the kitchen of her apartment. There Hughes was sitting as well by the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of him and he waved to them with a bright smile.

"Hey kids, how did the meeting with the doctor go?"

Al and Alfons sat down on each side of the table and received a cup of cocoa. "It went fine," Alfons said and gazed in Al's direction. "All healthy."

"That's good," Hughes said pleased.

"Are you two hungry?" Gracia asked. "I'll make you some lunch."

"Maybe yes, thank you." Alfons had barely even heard what she said. His eyes kept directing automatically towards the door leading to the hall, which led to the stairs to the third floor...

Gracia hummed as she made them sandwiches and smiled as Hughes rose to help her set the table. "I really had no idea that Edward had a little brother," she said conversationally. "Were you living back in London while he was working here in Munich?"

Al was uncomfortable. He didn't really know what to say about his brother. Neither did he know much at all about how Edward's life had been in this world. Maybe his brother had never even talked much about him, and why would he? He had been a suit of armour for all Edward knew at the time he was here. "I was..." The sentence trailed off before even half finished.

"Al was living with his grandma far away," Alfons said helpfully.

Hughes gave them both a look, being aware of the real truth, but he understood that they were best to not speak about the other world, after all. The less people knew, the better.

"Oh, and you never came to visit?" Gracia said in light disappointment. "You would've been welcomed here anytime."

"I wanted to," Al said. "But I..." _But what, really? I was in another world?_

"Oh, that's alright," Gracia said kindly, sensing that the subject was kind of tender. "I'm happy you were finally able to come and visit Germany. I really hope Edward will be back soon as well, and then we'll all have dinner together." She beamed and handed them each a sandwich on plates.

Hearing her speaking like that about Edward made Alfons even feel a stronger hope that he would just turn up out of the blue. His heart beat a little faster. "Why didn't you rent out the apartment again? There was really no telling if we would be back or not."

Gracia took a sip of cocoa and sat down by the table with them. "It didn't feel right. Besides, I wouldn't have had the heart to throw away all your things, so I figured it would be better to leave it as it was and hope you'd be back someday. And, it seems like I was right!"

"Oh." He had almost forgotten. His and Edward's things. Alfons ate silently, but felt like his stomach was full of maggots and could hardly sit still. He wanted to go up there again. At the same time he felt a bit perturbed, almost terrified.

"You're free to move back in whenever you like," Gracia said gently. "It's still your apartment."

Despite the anxiety, Alfons brightened up a little. "Really?"

"Yes, of course," Gracia said.

"I'd like that I guess." He cast a quick look to see how Al was reacting to the prospect, but the younger just sat quietly and obediently ate his sandwich. Alfons didn't want to decide too much though. Al was with him too, and he wanted him to have something to say in the important matters. So he added, "I'll discuss it with Al first."

Al stopped eating and just stared at him, and Gracia nodded and smiled. "Do that. Why don't you go up and have a look when you're done eating." She turned to Al. "I'm sure you're curious to see where your brother lived while he was here."

Al nodded slowly.

When they had finished eating, they both thanked Gracia for the food and Alfons led the way towards the hall. Al followed him quietly, still holding onto the plastic bag with the magazine which he was probably itching to continue reading.

"You're not very talkative lately, are you?" Alfons said when they were alone, heading up the stairs.

Al snorted quietly. "I have a lot on my mind, which you probably understand."

"Of course," Alfons replied sensitively. "I know."

"But," Al continued with a soft smile. "People here are really just as nice as they are at home."

"They are, aren't they," Alfons agreed. He stopped in front of the door to his old apartment, the key ready in hand. "Here it is."

_If only Edward was inside, if only E__dward would just suddenly pop out as he unlocked the door, if only..._

He twisted the key and unlocked the door. With just a moment's hesitation, he entered and turned on the lights in the ceiling. The temperature in the apartment was low and chilly, and the old floorboards creaked a bit beneath his feet.

The place was exactly the way they had left it. The furniture, Edward's papers and stocks of books lying everywhere, the couch where they had made love the last time they were in Munich... Alfons stopped and choked on his own breath.

He found himself completely forgetting about Al for a moment, and stepped hurriedly from room to room. His first stop was the kitchen, then the living room, bathroom, and after that, stepping over the mess of books towards his old bedroom. He lingered in the open doorway for a moment, staring at his deserted bed, before he hurried through the living room again. He hesitated only for a second with his hand stretched towards the knob of Edward's bedroom door, holding his breath, before quickly opening the door and stepping inside the room.

He frowned, confused.

Empty. The entire apartment was empty.

He tried to ignore the growing lump in his chest. Why had he even had hopes that Edward would be here? Was he about to go completely insane?

Al stepped inside the bedroom next to him, his large bronze eyes circulating around the room before they landed on the vacant bed. "He's not here," he whispered.

Alfons turned to him with wide eyes, for a moment feeling completely lost. Maybe Al had had the same thoughts as him, the same feelings, the same fragile _hope..._

"I'm afraid not," he answered, looking away again.

Al stepped over to Edward's old desk and touched the smooth top. "Is this my brother's room?"

"Yeah," Alfons replied timidly. "We lived here for some months before we left to the other world."

Al walked slowly towards the window, his face getting bathed in streams of bright winter sunlight. The street outside was quiet and peaceful. "This is the first place he'd try to reach once he comes back," Alphonse reasoned. "So, we should stay here."

Alfons took a deep breath. "Alright. If that's what you want."

Al nodded and turned back to him. "I'm sure."

Alfons felt a bit relieved. Finally they _agreed_ on something. He really missed the friendship he used to have with Al, and maybe it wasn't too late to rebuild it after all.

They stepped back into the living room again, and Alfons turned on some heat. Al had already started rummaging through one of the many stocks of books lying about. "What are all these books anyway?" he asked curiously.

Alfons straightened up again and joined his side, picking up a brown hard-covered book and brushed away a thin layer of dust from it. "Actually, Edward inherited most of these books from your father."

Al let out a quiet gasp and stared at him with his large caramel eyes. "My father...?" That's right, his father had lived in this world for a long time too. This clue might be exactly what he needed!

"Yes. After he died, Edward received the automobile we drove here in, these books and some money." Alfons chuckled softly. "We didn't have enough shelf space for everything, so he just kept them in piles all over the place."

Al dropped to the wooden floor, arranging his legs Indian style and opened one of the books eagerly, scanning a random page. Whenever he was reading, it reminded him deeply of Edward, Alfons silently mused.

"Edward read a lot about this world when he came here," he told. "He wanted to learn as much as possible about it."

"Sounds like my brother," Al said. "I'm intending to do the same." _He just needed somewhere to begin and this was it._

Alfons' eyes fell on the chest of drawers where he and Edward had stored all kinds of things. He stepped over to it and opened the upper one. There lay a folded map and a small black box. He took both of the two objects out of the drawer and stepped over to Al's side, joining him on the floor. "Let me show you something."

Al looked curiously up from the book while Alfons shoved away some stuff to clear off some space and unfolded the map over the floorboards. The printing showed the familiar oval shape of the world.

Al leaned over and let his eyes dance over the large sheet of paper. "Is this... this world?"

"Yes," Alfons confirmed. "A map of the entire world." He pointed a finger at a spot west of the European continent, at Germany. "This is the country we're in. And here is Munich."

Al scooted closer and looked carefully at all the small names of places he had never once heard of. "None of these places look like my country," he said. "Or my world."

"We're divided by different continents," Alfons explained. "We're in Europe, and then there's Africa below us, and Asia here, Australia and North and South America."

"America?" Al repeated. "Sounds almost like Amestris."

"Edward said that too once," Alfons said.

Amestris had been everything he had dreamed of. There they had conquered evil. They had dreamed of hope, of change, of fire, of love, of death, and then it had happened – the dream had been real. After so much struggling – for meaning and purpose – in the end he had found it only in Edward and his world.

They had shared experiences of both the fantastic and the mundane. A simple human always needed to find closure, to connect, and to know in their hearts that neither of them was alone. But now they were. They were both alone. It seemed, any dream of theirs had only been real once it was lost.

"This world is so big," Al muttered in amazement.

"Not really," Alfons replied tranquilly. "Compared to a lot of other things, even this world is quite small."

They sat quietly and studied the map for some minutes, before Al spoke again. "What's in that box?"

Alfons' eyes fell on the box he had brought as well. "You'll see." He opened it and rummaged through some old scraps, pencils and Romanian coins. Then he found the small key.

"A key?" Al emphasized.

"That's right," Alfons nodded. "It's a key to a deposit box where the money Van Hohenheim left is."

Al scowled a bit. "Are you going to take it? It's my brother's."

Alfons smiled. "Borrow. I'll earn my own soon. But we'll need something to start out with. I can't keep borrowing from Falman."

"That's true," Al reasoned.

"Technically, it's your money too since it's from your father," Alfons said.

Al's thin fingers tightened a little around the cover of the book he was holding. "Since these books belonged to my father, perhaps I can find something useful in them."

Alfons hesitated. "Useful... about what?"

"About opening the Gate in this world," Al said. "And for that matter, how alchemy works. It has worked once, so it should be able to work again."

Alfons was unsure on how to respond to that.

"_Don't try to get me back."_

Al stood up and picked up some notes Edward had been scribbling before they left. "It looks like he worked on something. I want to find out more about what it was."

"It was to _close_ the Gate," Alfons said honestly, "not open it. And we shouldn't do something like that."

"Why not?" Al wanted to know. "If I can open the Gate, Edward will definitely come back."

"You don't know that for sure," Alfons replied a bit helplessly. _Try to keep yourself calm._ "It's too dangerous," he pointed out. "Besides... he told me not to do it."

The look he received after having spoken those words was so sharp it could've cut straight through his head.

"I don't care, he always takes the greatest amount of responsibility upon himself, but that doesn't mean he has to do everything by himself!" Al retorted.

Everything turned silent for a minute, while they both stood and stared at each other. He knew Al had a point, but even so... There was still not any certainty that Edward would come back even if they tried.

Alfons clenched his fists and took a couple of deep breaths. "Let's not argue about this, please. I need some time to think." _He was too tired for this._

Al turned away from him and continued picking up notes floating around. "Fine," he said. "Think as much as you want, but I'll still look into this. If I find out about something, don't try to stop me."

Alfons left it at that. There was a low chance that Al would figure it all out anyway, wasn't there? He'd let Al do as he wished, as long as alchemy didn't work, it didn't really matter. Maybe it would even help Al realize that it was all pointless. Edward too had needed to try it out sometimes on broken china and other stuff before realizing the hard truth.

First of all, Alfons had to admit that this place needed some work. On top of all the mess, it was dusty and dirty everywhere. He would have to start first thing in the morning if they were going to move in soon.

Al was already sorting out Edward's papers, although Alfons didn't really _fancy_ the prospect that Al might find some good clues about the Gate in them, and even if alchemy was useless, it just wouldn't seem fair to deny him of looking through them either. He still halted though, when he noticed how Al studied one particular sheet of paper carefully for several seconds.

"What is it?" he asked.

Al looked at him, and then showed him the page. "A transmutation circle."

Alfons stepped closer to look at it, and then smiled softly as the memory of that particular drawing flashed through his mind. "I remember that one."

"Really?" Al said.

"Edward was always reading in all kinds of places, and always moved the oil lamp everywhere in the house to be able to see since we often kept the lights out to save power," Alfons explained. "The lamp slipped out of his metal hand once and broke. Then he tried to put it back together before I noticed." He chuckled softly. "I can't believe it's still floating around the living room. That incident happened almost right after we moved in."

Al actually smiled from the story. "It didn't work, did it?"

"No, unfortunately," Alfons said. "I bought a new one instead."

Al looked thoughtfully at the transmutation circle again. Then, without another word he put it down on the floor, clapped his hands together and touched it with both palms down.

Alfons' heart made a sudden leap in his chest. "What are you doing?"

What if it actually _worked?_ What would he do then?

Without listening to the other, Al's hands pressed firmly at the circle on the floor, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. Two seconds passed, five seconds, ten...

Alfons made a quiet sigh in relief. They couldn't start doing alchemy in this world, even if it worked on occasion. No. It was too dangerous. If people found out that a power like that truly existed, it would definitely get misused. Again.

Al opened his eyes and his tense shoulders relaxed slowly again. The transmutation circle lay pressed beneath his palms, still unused. Nothing had worked in practice, he had to admit that, but he had still felt _something._ He didn't know exactly what it was, but it couldn't have been just a coincidence. There had been some energy there, like his hands had felt a weak electric shock. His hands felt _warm_!

Al swallowed, feeling his heart beating faster in excitement. Bronze eyes directed up at Alfons again. "Do you have a calendar?"

"A calendar?" Alfons repeated slowly. "Yeah, in the kitchen."

Al leapt up to his feet and headed for the kitchen, still with the transmutation circle in hand.

Alfons felt startled and stepped after him. "Why?"

The younger boy stopped by the stove and brought the calendar, which showed the month of October, down from the wall and started flipping the pages over to December.

"A full moon always occurs in the middle of a month," Al muttered, more to himself than Alfons. "Monday 17th. Then there's a full moon."

"What are you talking about?" Alfons asked, staring down at the dates. It was marked which day the moon was full and half, but why was that important? Did that have anything to do with alchemy? He sent Al a suspicious look.

Al put the calendar back and averted his eyes. "Nothing, just forget it."

Though, Alfons didn't miss the look of hidden excitement in those bronze eyes. He sighed, pretending to be oblivious. "What if we take a trip back into the city before the bank closes? Then we can start getting things in order in here."

Al considered it, his eyes still fixed on the transmutation drawing before answering. "Alright."

* * *

On the way out they stopped by the flower shop again where Gracia had started rearranging a stand of various flowers.

"We're going out for a bit," Alfons let her know. "But we'll be back soon."

"That's alright," she said. "Have you decided if you're moving back in?"

Alfons nodded. "Yeah, we've decided to do it."

"That's lovely," Gracia smiled. "I'm glad you're coming back."

"Me too. I'll see you later," Alfons waved and shrugged on his borrowed jacket. Al did the same, although Alfons noted that it still wasn't actually fit for the temperature outside.

"We should buy you some warmer clothes as well," Alfons said as they headed down the street. "Or you'll freeze."

Al smiled a thin smile and kept his eyes glued on the ground. "I'm fine."

"You're lucky you haven't caught a cold yet," Alfons returned easily. "We can stop by a shop on the way back."

"It's not necessary, I like what I'm wearing," Al stated.

Alfons glanced down on the screaming-red coat, well aware that it used to be Edward's. Although, it was dirty and ragged at the edges after being through a lot of dangers in the past. "It isn't much use at this time of the year," he reasoned. He didn't mean to preach, but it was the middle of winter!

Al was reluctant to reply, which Alfons found slightly immature, but he decided to leave it be and just buy him a new coat regardless. But he could partly understand too. If he had a coat that had belonged to Edward, he would never have taken it off.

"I'm going to check up on some schools for you," Alfons said conversationally. "The sooner you enter one, the better. It's in the middle of a school year, but I guess we can't help it. Besides, I think you'll manage just fine."

Al ignored the compliment. "What kind of school is it?"

"Well, at your age you'll usually be in middle school. But I'll try getting you into a high school anyway."

Al looked thoughtfully up at him. "You mean the age I _look_. You don't think I could go to a university like my brother did?"

Alfons stopped, looking at him in surprise. Then he couldn't help the short laugh escaping through his nose before he realized that Al was serious.

Al glared up at him. "You don't have to laugh. Even if I don't remember you, I remember everything else, which technically makes me 17, not 13."

"Still, that's high school level and it would be difficult to explain," Alfons reasoned, trying to smooth it over. He had gone to university at an age of sixteen, after all. But he had still finished all the high school exams first. "I'm sorry, I know you're brilliant but it wouldn't be possible."

"I want to study something more specific," Al disputed. "One day I want to get my brother's real limbs back." He knew how his brother felt about that, that he had accomplished what was needed and was used to the automail, but in this world those limbs would be a bigger weakness than ever. Al had understood that wearing automail wasn't as normal in this world as in his.

Alfons choked on his own breath. He made a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and Al stopped as well, staring questioningly at him.

"First of all," Alfons said somewhat piqued, "Edward is _not_ here, and secondly, you'll need to graduate high school before any university will even accept you in the first place."

"He's not here right now, no, but he will be before I've graduated," Al retorted stubbornly.

Alfons didn't want to have this conversation at all. Why was it that they always ended up discussing things like this, and why did he feel like _he_ was the one in the wrong no matter how reasonable he tried to be?

"Don't talk about this here," he simply rejoined in the end. "We can't predict the future like that... We just have to..." _live in the present?_ Why did it all sound so pointless? "Just be careful what you say out in public," Alfons drilled briskly. He didn't want anyone to overhear anything strange.

"I'm fed up talking with you," Al stated coldly. He dropped down on a bench nearby, ignoring the snow and mulishly crossed his arms. "I just want my brother, not you." He decided, he wouldn't move from that spot. He wasn't at all in the mood to listen to the other anymore, friend of his brother or not. He didn't even seem to care about his brother.

Alfons took a couple of deep breaths. The words stung a bit, but he ignored it. So what if Al acted like this now, eventually things would get better, wouldn't they? The bank wasn't far away, just a couple of blocks down the street. If Al wanted to sit there and cool down, then so be it.

"Fine," he said resignedly. "Wait here then, I'll be right back."

"Whatever," Al muttered, efficiently avoiding his face.

Alfons stomped away, finding everything about their argument totally unnecessary and wanted to shake some reason into Al, but decided to simply do what he came for. He shouldn't let it get to him too much, he knew that. Al was upset, he was upset, and Edward simply wasn't here anymore. They had to do the best they could to manage without him, whether they liked it or not.

He stepped into the bank and groaned inwardly at the mile long queue. And Al wouldn't get much warmer by sitting in the snow on a bench in minus ten degrees with that coat. He considered leaving again, but then decided not to. Al would find him if he changed his mind, and it wasn't actually Alfons' fault that Al had inherited Edward's unreasonable stubbornness. So he stepped to the end of the line and waited patiently for his turn. Fortunately it went suitably faster than he had expected, except from of course the lady right in front of him in the line who used at least fifteen minutes, and his back was staring to ache from standing still for so long.

He picked up the key from his pocket and looked at it. There was a number on it, probably the number of the right deposit box. Though, he wondered if Edward had ever been in there and checked what was in it. He might have while Alfons had been hospitalized after being shot, but he had never said anything about it except that they would have plenty of backup money if they ran too short.

Finally it was his turn and after explaining that he was here on behalf of Edward Elric, he was shown into another room.

"Just wait here, Mr. Heiderich, and the deposit box will be brought to you shortly," the woman said.

"Thank you." He stood and waited for a moment before a man arrived with the box.

"Here you go," the man said. "You can open it at a more private spot over there." He gestured towards a row of curtains.

Alfons nodded in gratitude and took the box with him inside behind one of the curtains. He put it down on a small table and inserted the key. His heart was beating a little excitedly as he opened the box, and for a moment he simply stared petrified into it.

The box had two sections; the largest one roomed of money. A lot of money. On another note, it was dollars and not marks. Which meant, this money was worth a lot more.

Alfons paid attention to the other section. There was a gun, a packet of bullets, a smaller box and a notebook. From seeing these objects, Alfons was certain that Edward hadn't been aware that any of these things had been here. Maybe he had been too occupied by the books to bother checking it out.

He avoided even touching the gun and picked up the notebook. It was full of quotations and notes that was without doubt alchemy related. Alfons found himself having a small dilemma. This notebook was probably exactly what Al was looking for. There were unmistakeably references to the Gate in it, there had to be.

Alfons put the notebook slowly down again. The research was too dangerous. Knowing Edward, he would never have allowed them to touch the matter again. They had escaped the Gate by a hair last time. What was to stop the Gate from taking one of them if they opened it once more? Two parallel people couldn't live in the same world at the same time, and the reason they managed to was because Edward had sacrificed himself. If they were to mess that up, wouldn't Edward's effort have gone to waste? Furthermore, there was no guarantee that he was even still alive.

Alfons had seen him disappear, swallowed by darkness. Right in front of his eyes.

He realized his eyes had been watering again, and clutched a hand in front of his mouth. He couldn't let Al know about the notebook. He had to make sure he didn't find out about the Gate. Maybe he should even burn it, along with Edward's notes? Then Al would definitely not be able to find any clues good enough to practice any alchemy. But if he did that, Al would certainly _never _forgive him.

_Damn it._

His attention fell on the small box beside the notebook and he picked it up. It opened easily and inside was one single thing. A tiny red stone.

Alfons frowned. A stone? A ruby, maybe? He didn't recognize it from anywhere. He plucked it out of the box and closed it within his palm. It felt warm in his hand, and it kind of reminded him of Edward. Edward was always acting like the colour of red – of determination, of passion. Red was a symbol of courage and sacrifice, it would've been the colour of the flag of Edward's sailing ship, like the coat Al was wearing after him.

The minute Alfons had the stone in his hand, he didn't feel like he ever wanted to let go of it. He put it into his pocket. Then he picked up an amount of the money. He wouldn't have to exchange them into marks to be able to use them. Anyone would be happy to receive dollars over marks because of their higher value. But he didn't take out a lot. People might get suspicious of him if he went around with a lot of dollars on him, and he didn't want to get into trouble. He picked out enough to some food and a coat for Al, and pocketed the bills as well. Then he closed the box and locked it carefully.

Now he only had to get back to Al and break the ice with him. Again.

* * *

Al sat on the bench, kicking crossly at the snow with the tip of his boot and feeling angry and misplaced. What was he supposed to do in this world, anyway? He wondered if he should drop going to school altogether so he could concentrate on researching alchemy. He knew he could do it, he had to. Edward had preformed alchemy in this world, and that meant it could be possible for him too. Besides, he had learned the code for when the alchemy was most likely to work before he came here. He just had to wait for the right moment and then try it out.

Al started to realize, that he didn't like this world at all. He couldn't help noticing the darkness looming all over the place. The people of Munich were all unhappy. It was like he could look through a window into their very souls through their eyes as they passed by, and he saw sadness, despair, guilt, grief and pain. The colours of this world were all as dark as the miserable souls of its people. How did a country end up like this? Was the entire world just like Germany?

Alfons Heiderich was acting so unfair. He didn't seem like he even cared about finding a way to get Edward back at all. It pissed Al off. Maybe he had just acted nice, like he wanted to help him, but in reality he was a coward. Just a weakling like he had been back when he woke up after his life got turned upside down.

"Useless," Al muttered underneath his breath. He didn't really want to live with him anyway. He could find a place on his own. _He could take care of himself._ Then he could finally start working undisturbed on things that actually mattered.

The cold was starting to get to him and he shivered a little. To make the time go, he started counting prime numbers, but grew tired of it after a while and stopped at 293. What took Heiderich so long, anyway? He didn't even have his gloves and his fingers had started to grow stiff from the cold. He held them in front of his lips and blew some hot air out to relieve his hands from some of the frost. He wouldn't go after Heiderich, no way. It would be like utter defeat. So he remained seated.

A black car stopped beside him and a man dressed in a long, white coat stepped out. Al didn't pay him any mind at first, until he realized the man was heading for _him_.

"Good day, young man," the stranger spoke with a strange accent and curtly lifted off his bowler hat in a short greeting. He looked to be in his mid thirties and wore a genuine smile. His hair was long and dark and bound in a ponytail. "Why are you sitting here alone?"

Was something familiar about him?

Al pressed his hands a little tighter in front of his mouth and blew another stream of hot air on them in an attempt of avoiding the possibility of frost bite. "I'm waiting for someone," he replied shortly, trying not to sound too impolite, but he rather didn't want to speak with anyone right now. He was in a pretty bad mood already.

"Do you mind if I borrow your time for a moment?" the man asked. "I might have some information that will interest you."

Al doubted that, but he couldn't help his curiosity. There was something awfully familiar about this man, but he couldn't really place him. It started to chafe at the back of his brain like a piece of sand paper. He hated not remembering things! Maybe it would come back to him if he let the man talk.

"I'm listening."

"Splendid." The man ignored the snow as well and sat down next to him on the bench. "I happen to know a few things about you, and I'm also interested in the old art of alchemy."

Alphonse's eyes widened and his heart started beating a little bit faster. How did he know? He thought everyone in this world was entirely clueless when it came to alchemy. "W-Who are you?"

"You can call me Dietrich, Alphonse."

Al scowled, starting to feel nervous. A complete stranger _in another world_ he had never met before knew his name and about alchemy. Creepy. "How do you know about me?"

"I'll tell you in time," Dietrich said. "First of all, I reckon you're Van Hohenheim's second son, and that your older brother used to live in Germany?"

"Do you know my brother?" Al asked, unable to hide the trace of hopefulness in his own voice.

"Unfortunately I haven't met him," Dietrich admitted. "But I happen to know that he made a Gate in this world with alchemy, and that this Gate disappeared when you showed up."

Al closed his lips and felt slightly uncomfortable. "Were you there when we... showed up?"

"I've been monitoring the building for some time from a cabin close by," Dietrich told. "Occasionally I went inside to study the strange phenomenon in the ceiling, for the sake of science. I was trying to figure out the secrets of the Gate. It's highly regrettable that it disappeared."

Al looked away. "It was probably for the best. It's quite dangerous." He hated himself for repeating Heiderich's words, but he wouldn't encourage others to seek out the Gate again.

"I was wondering though, why it was only you and your doppelganger that arrived together. Didn't your brother come with you?"

Al felt very uncomfortable by those questions, his eyes searching the street behind the man to see if Alfons was close by, but he didn't see him anywhere. Should he be talking about this at all? Did it even matter? This man already knew about the Gate. He might as well try to figure out exactly how much he knew and what he wanted. "He kind of... didn't make it," Al said hesitantly. "Not yet."

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry to hear that," Dietrich said. "Let me tell you something. I was really hoping that perhaps you could assist me in learning more about the science of alchemy," he continued easily.

"Like, teach you how?" Al repeated. How did this person know about alchemy in the first place? Did he come from Thule Society? Last time Thule Society, or this world in general, had gotten close to alchemy it had ended up in a catastrophe. He didn't remember all of it of course, but Alfons had given him a brief story. With that in mind, his answer was easy: "Sorry, but I can't do that."

"What do you mean you can't?" Dietrich smiled. "If anyone can, it'd be you. You see, the source of energy might have hit more people than you, but you're still the only one who would know how to use it."

"What do you mean?" Al asked.

"There was a powerful strike to this world that night you came here, a high flow of energy," Dietrich explained. "But we won't know until the special days to come."

Al frowned. Did he mean the days where alchemy would possibly work? "The 17th?" Al emphasized.

"You're an intelligent boy," Dietrich said. "If your brother is still inside the Gate, he might be able to come here if we open it again."

Al brightened up at those words. This man thought so too?

"But to do it, I'll need your help." Dietrich searched his own pocket and picked up something he hid in his palm. "Perhaps you recognize this." He opened up his palm in front of Al, exposing a small red stone.

Al's bronze eyes magnified by the sight of the stone. And by that he remembered who this man reminded him of. He had known his parallel person, even fought him over two years ago as a suit of armour, before he got killed by Scar. Zolf J. Kimbley. The red stone in the hands of this man had reminded him of the destruction it had caused in Ishbal and how the power of alchemy had been misused into creating explosives.

But that had been Kimbley. This was a different person, just like he and Alfons Heiderich were two completely different people. But that didn't really explain why this man possessed this stone.

Al let his eyes off the stone and studied Dietrich's blue eyes. "It's an incomplete Philosopher's stone, right? Where did you...?"

"We got it from a homunculus that used to be in Germany until your brother disappeared," Dietrich explained simply. "Stones like this one materialized from the creature's blood."

Al understood he had to be talking about Envy. He knew Envy had been in this world at the same time as his brother, and then they had returned to Amestris in a flying machine.

"If we use this stone as a catalyst, our chances will increase to succeed," Dietrich reasoned. "Don't you agree?"

"I guess so," Al replied slowly. _The possibilities... _"Would you really help me get my brother back?"

"Of course I would," the man replied. "I have a suggestion. Come with me, and we can talk more privately." He rose and gestured towards the automobile.

Al rose too, albeit unsure. What would Heiderich say when he returned and he wasn't there anymore? Did it even matter? Not nearly enough to let go of a chance to find out more about a way he might get Edward back.

So he nodded and stepped over to the vehicle, and Dietrich opened the door for him.

"_AL!"_ a voice shouted from a small distance away. "ALPHONSE, STOP!"

Al gasped and abruptly turned towards the familiar voice. To his light surprise he saw Alfons Heiderich running at full speed towards them.

Then a strong palm suddenly gripped uncomfortably hard around his upper arm, and Al stared startled up at the man behind him. Dietrich seemed all of a sudden in a hurry and tried to push him into the backseat before Alfons could reach them and stop it.

Al suddenly backpedalled and tensed, instantly changing his mind. "Wait." He tugged his arm free and stepped away; getting a very bad feeling by the way the man had suddenly tried to rush him inside. Then he noticed that Dietrich was reaching for something inside his jacket, and he got even more alarmed.

In the next second Alfons Heiderich reached him and pulled him away from the automobile by his elbow, with surprising strength and firmness. His blue eyes were like raging ice. "Stay away from him," he panted, addressing the older man. "Who are you? Why are you following us?"

Dietrich's smile was like wiped off his face. "Alphonse is coming with me. Aren't you, Alphonse?"

Al wasn't so sure anymore and didn't reply.

The accent was strange, Alfons noted in the heat of the moment. Slightly awkward diphthongs and strangely long vocals. Italian? Or maybe French?

"He's not going anywhere." Alfons trembled a little, noticing how the man was about to reach inside his jacket for something that was unmistakably a gun, and he started regretting not bringing the gun from the deposit box.

"I'll give you a warning, boy," the man dressed in white and the familiar bowler hat said, "hand him over to me, or someone else will suffer for it."

Al's eyes widened. Dietrich had seemed nice until now. He gave Alfons an agitated look. "Let me go, he knows about me," he said fast. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Shut up, Al!" Alfons barked. He directed his eyes at the man again. "Leave us alone. There are plenty of witnesses around here. Whatever you're thinking of doing, you won't get away with it."

The warning was as clear as glass. The man slowly let his hand drop from his jacket and sent them a sharp look before he turned back to his auto. "For now, Heiderich. We'll meet again," he said before he climbed in, quickly starting the automobile and drove away, disappearing around the street corner.

Al and Alfons stared silently after it and Alfons realized suddenly he was still clutching Al's elbow. He loosened the grip and snatched Al's shoulders instead, turning him around and staring intently at him. "Are you alright? What did he say to you?"

Al averted his eyes and pulled away from his grasp. "Nothing."

"Don't tell me it was nothing," Alfons thundered. "I've never spoken to him before, yet he knew both of our names and you were about to willingly step into his auto like a child lured in with candy!"

Al was about to protest to the comparison, but Alfons continued angrily. "Didn't you notice at all that this was the same man who watched us last night when we arrived at Falman's? I knew there had to be something fishy about him, but I couldn't be sure until now." Alfons rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply. "You said he knows something, so spit it out! What did he tell you?"

Al stood stiff and refused to meet his eyes. But he decided to answer the question. "He monitored the Gate. He told me he was studying it for scientific reasons, and he saw us. He even had a red stone."

Alfons' eyes narrowed. "A red stone?"

"Yeah, an incomplete Philosopher's stone," Al elaborated, though Alfons probably wouldn't know what that was.

"Oh, so that's what it is..." Alfons muttered. He brought his hand into his pocket and picked up the red stone from the deposit box. "Did it look like this one?"

Al's eyes widened. "Yes. Exactly like that one... Where did you get it?"

"From the deposit box," Alfons said. "Clearly, your father hid it there, although there was no mention of how he obtained it."

"It probably comes from the same place Dietrich got one," Al said in a low voice. "From a homunculus called Envy. If you take out blood of a homunculus it will crystallize into a red stone."

Alfons recognized that name. Envy had died at the time he and Edward had been held captured by Thule Society in Amestris. "Him..." He locked his fingers around the stone again. "Is that all that man said?"

"Yeah," Al lied, not mentioning the prospect of actually performing alchemy in this world. He didn't even know why he didn't tell Alfons everything. Perhaps because he'd probably freak out even more if he found out that Al could be seriously capable of performing alchemy. Maybe he even was suspicious of it already, which was the reason why he wouldn't let Al have the stone?

"This is bad," Alfons muttered. "Scientists can be scary when there's something they don't understand." He looked down at Al again and forced him to get eye contact. "I want you to promise me, Al, if you see him ever again, stay far away from him or run."

Al frowned up at him. "Tell me one thing. What is so bad about _trying_ to find a way to get my brother back?"

Alfons was slightly taken aback and hardly even realized that the subject was changed so quickly. "We can't," he managed, lowering his voice. "We can't open the Gate again. It's too unstable and risky. It the most dangerous existing thing ever! Even now I still find it hard to believe that something like that exists, regardless of what we know."

"That's not the point! Don't you _want_ to get him back?" Al asked dangerously.

Alfons' heart made cruel whack towards his throat, threatening to choke him. How could he even doubt that? Edward was everything to him. "Of course I do! More than anything in the world."

"You have a pretty terrible way of showing it," Al grated. "I don't even believe you. You're too selfish! You don't even want him to come back!"

"That's _NOT_ true!" Alfons screamed, making people stop and stare at them on the street. His blood was boiling and his heart was beating so hard his chest hurt. He was starting to grow tired of feeling on the edge of crying all the time. He ignored all the people's stares.

"I want him back more than anything." His hands lifted to his face, to block the flow. "I don't even know how to live..." Alfons stopped himself in panic. Oh no, this sounded wrong. Al didn't know about the relationship he had had to Edward anymore, and how strange would it sound when hearing Alfons say he didn't know how to live without Edward? What was he supposed to say?

Al scowled suspiciously at him. "What exactly are you to my brother?"

There it was, the exact question he didn't know how to answer. It had been much easier last time, when he could leave all the basic explanations to Edward. Perhaps he _was_ selfish, more selfish than he wanted to even admit to himself. Everything had been so easy when Edward had been there, hadn't it? Edward always took care of everything. And Al always listened to Edward. Why would he even care to listen to Alfons? He knew Al probably hated him.

Besides, Al was right – the less they tried, the less would be done. Edward would probably never be able to come back on his own, unless the Gate wanted him to. But still, Alfons was afraid. What if they tried everything and nothing changed? He wouldn't even manage to bear it.

"Did you listen, or what?" Al spoke again impatiently. "You're creeping me out."

"I'm sorry," Alfons said tentatively. "I don't really know how to tell you this."

"Just tell me," Al said. "If you were in love with my brother or something, I reckon you would have tried to get him back regardless if it's dangerous."

"I _do_ love him," Alfons shot back, before he could even think. Then his eyes widened as he realized what he had just said.

Al peered up at him, looking suspicious. "In what way?"

Alfons figured there was no way back now, and he had to confess for real. "In another way than you do," he said silently. "Like... lovers' love."

Al looked slightly disturbed. "Does he feel the same for you?"

Alfons nodded slowly. "Yes."

Al went silent for a long time, and Alfons didn't know what else to say. What if he didn't want to accept them this time, because it was Alfons who had told him and not Edward?

Al dropped back down on the bench, unsure of how to react. He had never thought that this person meant this much to Edward, so much that he was _in_ _love_ with him. It was strange. He had always believed that Edward would marry Winry one day. But he guessed that wouldn't be possible anymore anyway, since Edward probably wouldn't return to Amestris any more than Al ever would. Though, he couldn't deny the possibility that he had. What if Edward _was_ in Amestris? Still, he chose to believe that Edward was inside the Gate, waiting for an opportunity to come to Munich.

Al knew Alfons Heiderich had something to do with every single memory he had lost on the way from his world to this one, which indeed made him important. He had probably known about Alfons' relationship with his brother before. Hell, they had lived in a house together, and he knew a third person had been there with him and his brother. So that was the reason why so many of his recent memories were gone. He had known this person quite well in the end, but for some reason the Gate had taken it all away.

Al looked up at the other again, smiling faintly. "Then, what's wrong with trying?"

Alfons shook his head. "The Gate is unpredictable and there will be no telling what might happen. Either way, it will put you in great danger if you try. Your brother would never let you go through with it." _And neither will I..._

Al's eyes searched his face, his eyes then saddening. "Why did he have to stay behind? It's not fair."

"Like I said before... It's all my fault," Alfons said. "He did it for me... I know, it's not fair at all. I didn't belong in that world, and it was starting to erase me from people's memories. I wasn't supposed to make it. That's probably why you can't remember me."

Al fell silent again.

"I'm so sorry, Al, but try to understand," Alfons said, his voice stricken from the everlasting lump in his throat. "I wish there was something either of us could do, but it will never be like we want it to be. The Gate, or this strange being calling itself _Truth_, somehow it always manages to mess things up, and one of us will have to pay for it. For now, let's just take some time to figure things out."

It didn't take Al much effort to understand that Heiderich was doing everything in his power to avoid the whole subject. Because he thought Edward was dead and that everything was his fault?

In the end, Al simply nodded. But internally he told the other, _fine,_ _you do that. Even if you have given up on him, I never will._ Reality was just yet a dream, but one day it would turn real again. And he knew which.

A/N: There's a sidestory linking to the story directly after this chapter called _"Images of a Soul"_, written by Aevium. Check out her work. ;) There are links in my profile.


	4. Full Moon

Hello everyone! I hope you're all enjoying your summer :) And here there will be some plot development. Thanks for coming back and sticking with this story!

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**CHAPTER 4: FULL MOON**

They stayed over at Vato Falman's house for a couple more days, but used their time to shop and clean up the apartment. They also moved some of the things they didn't need in the apartment up to the attic to clear out some space. To mention some, the books Edward had gotten from Van Hohenheim took up a lot of room on the floor of the living room and made it almost impossible to clean properly, so Alfons decided they had to be moved. First Al was unwilling to move the books, but Alfons reassured him that he could keep a couple of them in the living room or his bedroom and go up to the attic and read the other ones whenever he liked. Al accepted that suggestion.

At the time Alfons Heiderich had revealed his role in the relationship he had with his brother, and Al had already been stressed from all the input and recent events. But now he had gotten some time to really mull it over. It was strange and he couldn't really imagine his brother feeling that way for someone like Heiderich, and he didn't know if he had accepted it before or not. He wished he could remember. But for now, he decided to accept it without liking it. It wasn't important right now.

Still he couldn't resist asking a certain someone that might have known about it from before.

"Did you know about my brother and Heiderich?" he whispered as soon as he found some time alone while tidying and cleaning up Edward's old bedroom.

Schiller shrugged. _"I guess I did. They were very close when he held them both captive. Your older brother's devotion to protecting him was admirable to me."_

Al stopped sweeping the floor and leant pensively against the mop. "At least that sounds like my brother. I just don't see how he can be attracted to someone who lets him down that easily."

"_Aren't you being a little hard on Alfons, kiddo?"_ Schiller suggested softly. _"He's been through a lot more than you remember, after all. Maybe he needs to adjust as much as you do before he knows what to do."_

"He seems to have everything figured out to me," Al muttered. "Just move on with it and forget about my brother."

"_He isn't like that and you know it__ deep down,"_ Schiller said. _"You should give him some time so long as it isn't too late."_

Al went silent. It couldn't be too late for anything; otherwise everything would've been in vain. But why did Schiller defend Alfons Heiderich this much? Al wasn't sure if his older look-alike deserved it.

The apartment was finally all ready to be moved into again, and Alfons felt kind of happy. He was thankful to Falman for having allowed them to stay, but he looked forward to live in the place he had once called his home again. Falman had told him that he was welcome back to the factory whenever he was ready for it, and Alfons couldn't really wait. He hadn't thought he would be able to, but now he wanted to build rockets again. It was the only thing in this world he was good at apart from missing Edward.

Edward was always in his heart, smiling at him during the day and crying with him in the night. Alfons missed him with all his being, and he would never stop. But as Al had put out, he didn't really show it on the outside. Maybe it looked like he didn't even miss Edward at all. Even the _thought_ of that hurt. But Edward had of course been his main, even _only_, priority. Without even realizing it at first, that had blatantly changed.

Alfons used the money he had withdrawn from the deposit box to buy Al everything he needed, like clothes and even an extra shelf for his books. He also showed him where the library was so he could go there whenever he wanted. Each and every thought in his mind revolved around Al; whether or not things would be suitable for Al, what he should buy that Al liked and which school would be better to sign him up to. Alfons barely had time to even think about Edward much at the time being, or about the fact that he wasn't there anymore, since he unconsciously did everything in his power to be Al's substitute brother.

Mostly he didn't even take Al out of his sight. He had felt slightly nervous ever since the incident with the man in white, especially because he had seemed to be particularly interested in Al and had threatened to hurt someone if Al didn't come with him. Alfons didn't even want to think about what could've happened if he hadn't come back in time. The prospect of losing Alphonse wasn't even an option. He couldn't let that happen. They hadn't discussed the matter any further since that day, and neither did he hope it would ever be necessary to bring it up. It had been three days since it happened, and he hadn't seen the man since that time and Al didn't seem to be thinking about it either. Good.

It was Tuesday and the weather was snowy and grey. Al was walking beside him on the way to the grocery store, since Alfons figured they should make a proper dinner, seeing as it was their first night in their new apartment. Alphonse was wearing his new clothes and a new, warmer coat which he had picked out himself _(after finally being convinced that it was better than getting the flu). _It was long, brown and had a hood stuffed with warm fleece.

"How much money was really in that deposit box?" Al asked curiously.

Alfons shrugged. "There was a lot, I didn't count it. And everything was in a USD currency."

"What is USD?" Al asked again.

"United States dollars," Alfons explained. He had become pretty used to having to explain a lot to Al being that he was so new to this world and was never too shy to ask questions. "It's a different currency than this country is using, and they're worth much more than marks."

"Why is the mark worth less?" Al wanted to know.

"Because the country got damaged after the war, and Germany has a lot of debt to pay after the Treaty of Versailles. And the inflation makes the value of marks almost less than nothing, which is why people spend as much as they can before the prices increase even further again."

Al scowled. "That's messed up."

"Indeed," Alfons said. "Hopefully it won't last, or people will start leaving the country because they can't afford to live here anymore. There are already many people who leave to the States to start anew."

"We can afford to live here, right?" Al asked indecisively.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Alfons replied, smiling softly. "Tomorrow I'll start work at the factory again, and then things will start working out."

Al had mixed feelings. Partly he didn't want things to _'start working out'_ without Edward. But he guessed they had to make out the best of their time until he returned, and he wished to learn more about this new world at the same time as he wanted to hold onto prospects of his own. He couldn't wait for the next full moon. There were only six days left. Then he would try out his theory.

They arrived at the grocery store, where it was crowded as always. Alfons was glad they had arrived a little early, or else they would risk losing most of the supplies if they were already sold out for the day. He started picking out some bread, milk _(knowing that Al didn't mind drinking it like Edward had)_ and eggs.

"If there's anything you want, just add it into the basket," Alfons offered.

"Okay, thanks." Al wandered off for a bit. The store was pretty big, but it wouldn't be a problem to find Heiderich again later. For a while he just went from shelf to shelf and looked at the products without picking something out. There wasn't really anything in particular he wanted. The food in this world wasn't very different from the food in his own world, even if there were a few things that he didn't recognize.

"Hello Alphonse," a voice suddenly said behind him, and Al froze to a block of ice. He felt a hand clamping over his shoulder, and he turned slowly. It was the same man from before, wearing the same face as Zolf J. Kimbley, only without the hat and coat this time. He wore a different jacket over his white suit, probably so he wouldn't get recognized that easily. But his smile was back, and his steely eyes glistened as he watched the younger. "So it's here you've been hiding?"

"What do you want?" Al asked, still not moving, although he knew very well what the man wanted.

"I want you to listen very carefully," Dietrich said menacingly. "There's a full moon in six days. I want you to meet me at the bridge nearby at eight o'clock in the evening on that day."

Al scowled and stepped back. "No."

Dietrich scoffed and leaned closer, making sure no one else could hear their conversation. "It's not like you have much of a choice, Alphonse. I know where to find you if you don't show up." Still holding onto Al's shoulder, he whispered fussily in his ear. "As for your doppelganger, you better keep this a secret. If you don't, I will kill him. Is that understood?"

Al swallowed thickly. _Kill...?_ He didn't doubt for a second that the man could be capable of doing it. Maybe parallel people weren't so different from each other after all. "How do you know about the other world and who I am?" he returned shakily.

"That's not important right now," Dietrich said, straightening up. "Please do as I say, or else you'll come to realize how far I'm willing to go. The hard way." He grinned. "But of course, if the hostility between us can be avoided, I want us to be very good friends. Then you won't regret coming to my side. Think about your brother, Alphonse."

Then the man walked away and disappeared, and Al was left trembling lightly. He was being seriously threatened by this stranger and if he tried to disobey, Alfons Heiderich would get hurt. Following the man's advice and thinking about his brother didn't really calm him down at that point. But still, Dietrich still knew something. Maybe it would be worth it? Was he seriously considering the prospect of befriending a man who could be capable of heartlessly killing someone? Al felt very agitated, and hardly knew what to do with himself, just as Alfons showed up.

"Al, I think we have most of what we need. Did you find anything else you'd like?" Alfons smiled at him until he noticed the look on his face, and then scowled. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing," Al said fast, and forced his face to shift into a beam. "I don't want anything."

Alfons looked suspicious. "Did something happen?"

"No, of course not," Al lied. "I was just looking."

"Well, alright," Alfons said slowly. "Let's head back."

Al nodded and followed him to one of the cashiers. The woman smiled at them after counting over all their groceries. "Hi, Alfons. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Alfons smiled back. He recognized her from way back when he had been a regular customer in the shop. "Yeah, I guess so."

"What a cute little brother you have," she commented with a sweet smile. "I haven't seen him before."

"Oh," Alfons said and just shrugged with a light smile. It was a pretty effective way of avoiding pushing the subject any further.

Al had started to get fairly annoyed every time someone just assumed that Heiderich was his brother. He wanted to retort back that he _wasn't,_ but he let the matter slip by on the outside while fuming inwardly. Alfons Heiderich had no relation to him whatsoever. _Edward_ was his big brother, not Alfons. Why couldn't people just shut up? And why didn't Alfons tell them that they were wrong? They were always addressing Heiderich, never Al. It all pissed Al off so much. He stomped out of the store even before Alfons had finished packing all the groceries into paper bags, and had almost completely forgotten about Dietrich already.

Although, Al remembered him the moment he came out of the shop, and immediately became more wary about his surroundings. But the man wasn't in sight anywhere. Maybe he would leave him alone until December 17th.

"Al?" Alfons' voice called behind him as the older stepped out of the grocery store. "Why'd you run off like that?"

"No reason," Al replied frostily. "I just want to go home." He started striding off again without looking back.

Alfons followed with the bags in his hands and had to run to catch up with the younger. "Is it because she assumed that we're brothers?"

He caught on pretty fast, Al had to admit. But didn't that mean that it bothered him too? "Everyone just presumes that we are," Al shot out. "Why aren't you telling them that it's not like that?"

Alfons' eyes narrowed a little, but his voice remained soft. "Because we're… well, we're so alike on the outside that it would be more complicated to explain why we_ aren't_ related, I guess."

"We may look alike, but we'll never be the same," Al stated. "We're_ not_ related, it's as simple as that!"

"I didn't mean it like that, but why is it so bad to keep a low profile?" Alfons returned, lowering his voice slightly. "The less people know about you, the better."

"Yeah, like everyone would discover that I'm from _another world_ just because I'm not your brother," Al said sarcastically.

"Stop mentioning the other world so carelessly," Alfons scolded. "Have you forgotten about what happened on Saturday already?"

Al snorted. "You're always nagging and trying to control me. Is this some kind of attempt to replace my brother?"

Alfons abruptly stopped, shocked. _Replacing...?_

Al turned to him with fiery eyes. "Because if you are, stop it right now. You'll never be a substitute for my brother, and neither do I want you as one."

Before Alfons could answer, Al had run off and was gone in between the crowd of people. Even when Al was already out of sight, Alfons found himself still trying to work his jaw back into function.

Was he trying to replace Edward? He would never do that. He simply wanted the best for Al, that was all. Maybe he was trying too hard…

When he came back home he went quietly upstairs so Gracia wouldn't come to see him, and unlocked the door to the silent apartment. He wasn't in the mood to talk with her right now, besides, it was possible that he would need to go straight back out again to search for Al before he got lost. Or would it be better to do nothing? Was he really trying to _control_ Al?

He stepped inside and closed the door. Then his eyes fell on a pair of boots full of melting snow in the hall, and he leant against the door to shut it. He lingered like that for a moment, feeling relieved and stupid. He was too overprotective. Al _could_ take care of himself. He wasn't simply any kid. He was _Edward's_ little brother. He was still the same person who had rescued Alfons once from four military soldiers, and once transmuted a portion of his soul into his shirt to spy around unnoticed.

Alfons allowed a weak smile to himself. He had to tell Al about that incident sometime.

He stepped into the kitchen with the groceries, and judging from the silence in the apartment, Al had just gone straight for his room.

He put away all the food into the fridge and the cabinets, then folded the bags together and put them in a drawer to use them to store garbage in later. When he was done, he stepped through the living room and stopped in front of the bedroom door that used to be Edward's. His knuckles lingered in the air a couple of centimetres from the wood, before he finally knocked twice.

"Al, are you there?" he asked.

There were some seconds of silence before the reply came. "Leave me alone, I'm reading."

"Look, I'm sorry," Alfons said. "I might've tried to be another big brother to you, but I didn't mean it like _that._ I'm not replacing anyone. It's just because of…" The words trailed off in his mind.

"… because of what?" Al pushed. He seemed interested.

Alfons smiled meekly to himself. "It was the last thing Edward asked me to do."

There was another silence, before he heard someone shift and move across the room. Then the door opened slowly and Al's copper eyes were glued to the floor, but at least he listened. "What did he say?" he asked quietly.

Alfons leaned his back against the wall next to the door. "He said, 'take care of him for me'."

Al's eyes lifted, widened, and fixed at him.

"That's merely what I'm trying to do," Alfons beamed softly. "Both for you and Edward. It's what he wanted me to do and I want to as well, as long as you need me here."

Al's face saddened again and his eyes pointed downward to the floorboards. He felt torn between rage and relief over the person facing him. Why couldn't he just understand and save them some trouble? Alfons hadn't even _tried_ to suggest anything that could help Edward since they got here. But what could Al have done without Alfons there for him? He hated the fact, but without Alfons he wouldn't have gotten far after coming to this world. Edward had known that, even if his act had seemed careless.

Maybe Schiller had a point, after all. He just needed some time to adjust as well. Al knew, Alfons was far from enjoying being back in his own world, and Al did appreciate what he did for him.

"I'm sorry too," he mumbled. "I know you want Edward back as much as I do, and that you're not trying to replace him. I'm just… so constantly angry. Not really at _you_, I know it's not your fault, but I'm angry at… I don't even know what."

"The world," Alfons murmured.

Al took a deep breath and let it out soundly. "Yeah… the unfair world."

Alfons lifted his hand and squeezed Al's shoulder a bit. "Just remember that you're not alone, even if Edward isn't here. I'll try to remember the same."

Alphonse looked up and nodded slowly. "You and my brother… you're very close, right?"

Alfons nodded as well. "Yes."

Al was afraid of the details, but it couldn't help asking. "I knew about it before I came here, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

"I remember vaguely that I had a conversation with him in Resembool," Al said. "But there are so many holes in my memory, sometimes I can't sort out what he said at what time and what is connected to what."

Alfons sighed. "If you want, I can try to help you fill in some of them."

Al brightened up a little. "Yeah, I'd like to know." He wanted to know how he had known Heiderich from before, what they had done together, what they had talked about. If he had been that close to Edward, Alfons would know his brother better than anyone else.

"Alright," Alfons smiled. "But first of all, are you hungry? I can make us some fried potatoes and burgers."

"Sounds good," Al replied, as his stomach made a sound that agreed.

* * *

The rest of the evening was spent eating and talking about the time before they arrived Munich. Alfons got caught up in telling stories about how he and Edward built a flying machine and flew to Thule Society, and that the first time Al met him he had almost knocked him out with a stick.

"That's both comical and disturbing," Al commented while taking a bite of fried potato and chewing. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Not much," Alfons joked. "When I had gotten some life into Edward again, you calmed down slightly."

"Slightly?" Al wrinkled his nose.

"Much later you were following us on the train to Lior when your brother and I were going to try destroy the Gate and Edward said you couldn't come with us. You came after us anyway and got caught by me," Alfons told merrily. "Then you transmuted a part of your soul into my shirt so you could spy around."

"Wow, really? I'm a genius," Al grinned.

"Your brother didn't like it much though," Alfons chuckled.

"Oh, that's right," Al said slowly. "I remember he warned me that a transmutation like that can be rather risky. I was aware of it, but nothing bad in particular had ever happened to me before concerning it."

"Well, it's probably for the best that you can't do it anymore," Alfons noted calmly.

Al smiled a thin smile. "Sure." _Or maybe he could?_

In secret Alfons had stored up some of Edward's old clothes in his own bedroom. They needed to put most of them up into the attic to have enough space for Al's clothes in the closet, but he hadn't completely removed everything. Some of it he could still use since they often had shared each other's shirts, save for the fact that the reason he kept them was mostly because it was the closest thing he had left of Edward's.

That night he rummaged through one of the bags and found one of Edward's favourite shirts. It was wine red, and Alfons had loved it from the first moment Edward had put in on at a University Christmas party last year. He had used it after that too, and it clearly stuck itself out from all the other plain white ones.

Alfons brought the smooth linen to his nose and inhaled deeply. He could still smell the scent of Edward coming from it. If he could, he'd never wash this shirt.

He brought the shirt to his old bed and flapped the long sleeves around himself before he buried himself underneath the covers. He hugged around the shirt, which hugged him fancifully back, and in his mind Edward was wearing the shirt while lying right next to him, leaning closer and kissed him softly on the lips. He would never open his eyes ever again if he could, because then he would see that Edward wasn't really there.

This was the first night he spent in this apartment after he returned without Edward. It was far from the same as it had used to be.

He curled up on his side and breathed steadily out. Edward draped a protective metal arm around his waist and kissed him again, this time on the cheek. It was almost like Alfons could really feel the weight of his arm resting protectively over him.

"_You're doing a great job,"_ Edward's voice whispered. _"I know it isn't easy for you and I feel terrible for throwing you into it all like that, but Al is grateful even if he doesn't always show it."_ His voice was soothing and calm, relaxed and warm. Deep as the ocean, coherent as the waves.

"You don't have to say that, I would've taken care of him even if you hadn't asked me to," Alfons replied quietly. Then he scoffed. "But thanks anyway."

"_I know I didn't have to tell you to,"_ Edward said, sitting up beside him. _"You've always been the one I could trust the most."_

"So were you," Alfons whispered. He opened his eyes, taking a deep breath as his vision of his Edward didn't disappear. Was he dreaming?

Edward's hair was loose and he was wearing a white shirt and black leather pants. Calm golden eyes fixed at him, wearing an expression Alfons couldn't even read. Probably because he was starting to lose his mind and imagining things...

"_Why are you afraid of me?"_ Edward asked solemnly.

"Afraid of you?" Alfons echoed in the dark. That was ridiculous. He was afraid, alright. But of Edward? This was rather the most wonderful dream he had ever had. "I'm not afraid of you. I miss you," Alfons said softly.

Edward leaned down over him, his lips lightly brushing his again. _"I miss you too,"_ he murmured.

"Edward…" Alfons breathed out. He closed his eyes again, certain that Edward would disappear if he opened them again. So he didn't want to open them. Refused to. "Are you ever coming back?"

"_Do you believe I will?"_ Edward asked.

Alfons hesitated. "Sometimes, but not always," he admitted.

"_Why?"_ Edward asked. He sounded a bit hurt.

"I don't know… I have a bad feeling about everything. The Gate... You disappeared right in front of me."

"_So did you, Alfons,"_ Edward said. _"You remember when the Gate took you in Amestris, right?"_

Alfons worked his jaw, feeling his heart slamming hard against his ribs. "How did you know that I wasn't dead then? How could you know?"

"_I just did,"_ Edward replied softly.

Alfons smiled a weak smile and held a little tighter around the wine coloured shirt. "I love you, Edward," he breathed out in the dark. "I wish you weren't gone..."

"_I hate seeing you __this unhappy."_ Edward's voice murmured. _"I'm sorry."_

In his mind, the fictive fragment of his imagination that was Edward, trailed down his body with his hand and enveloped him underneath the covers. While stroking lightly, his mouth found a nipple and nibbled it benevolently. Almost like his imagination was doing it to make it up to him for messing with his head so much. Alfons didn't fight against it. He was already on his road to Hell from a long while back, so why back down now? His only wish in the end besides seeing that silvery light shine in the eyes ringed with gold of the one he had left to love in this world, was for his death to be merciful and quick before he crossed the thresholds of damnation. He didn't deserve any further chances to escape it.

Alfons started growing hard and shifted onto his back on the sheets, still with his eyes closed. He pulled the ownerless shirt up to his mouth and kissed it, while he let his other hand trail down his own stomach and lower, behind the waistband of his shorts and touched himself. The pleasure was real. He felt guilty, but couldn't help it. This way he felt closer to Edward. The only times he had felt like this had been with him.

He started off lightly, teasing himself like Edward would've teased him, let out a few short breaths before stroking slowly. In his mind, Edward's mouth was on him, and one flesh hand and one metal rested on his hips. His left hand clung tighter onto Edward's shirt, the sleeves still wrapped around him while he was inhaling its scent, kissing it, biting and sucking on it. A silent hiss was driven from his throat as Edward swallowed him whole and bobbed his head, the sound itself couldn't really tell pleasure apart from pain. The sensuous slide made him throb, and he wanted nothing more than to stretch it out, to keep himself on the edge for as long as possible until his body took over and the blood roared in his ears.

Sucking in a deep breath, Alfons moved his hand rhythmically, pacing up and arched his head back on the pillow. His lips parted and let out a quiet gasp and his hips bucked into his own working hand. The feeling of bliss was building up an abrupt pressure from his spine to his groin, making the crown of the tip drool for more friction. Edward crawled up his body and stole his lips, his ghostly body pressing against his and Alfons never wanted himself to lose that feeling.

He slowed down, almost stopped. He didn't want it to end so soon. He didn't want Edward to disappear. He suspended his climax and controlled his breathing, even as his body was close to breaking.

Pearls of sweat had settled on his forehead, and Alfons arched on the bed like he was being tortured, waiting for Edward's permission to be touched again and bring himself back into mindless bliss.

Alfons kept his eyes closed. His body arched all over, unsatisfied and craving to be touched again.

"_Don't stop,"_ Edward suddenly murmured in his ear, touching him again, and this time going straight to the point in the exact right firmness and pace that shot electric shivers down Alfons' spine. _"Don't be unhappy anymore."_

Alfons sealed the golden haired angel's mouth with a kiss, fisting of locks of his hair and their lips conserved together, and neither rough nor gentle but with need and desire. Alfons' fingers coiled around Edward's slender waist, and felt Edward's lips against the crook of his neck, thirsting for his flesh as he lacked his own, fingers curled upon Alfons' shoulder blade with a protective grip. Alfons felt like he should've been troubled by how real this felt, but instead he felt safe.

"Edward..." He suppressed a deep moan by pressing the shirt in front of his mouth, and Edward leaned over him again, pressing against him and bit gently at his neck. Stabbed by the pressure of his own arousal he finally let himself go over the edge, and Alfons quickly moved his left hand to cover over the tip and whimpered Edward's name as he came. He erupted into his palm and was left sprawled on the bed, tangled in the sheets and panting.

Edward's warm presence was still there, wrapped around his lax form. He kissed his lips softly and stroked his hair and Alfons trembled a little from the ghostly touch. It felt strangely warm.

"_You can tell me the truth,"_ Edward said. _"Just say it. You can't keep it from me like the way you can't keep it from yourself."_

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alfons whispered softly. "You aren't even real."

"_You're afraid."_

"No," Alfons breathed out sharply. "The only thing I've afraid of is that I've lost you forever."

"_You know you haven't,"_ Edward said. _"I'm me."_ Like that explained everything. _"I won't die that easily and you know it, you've witnessed it. There's something else."_

"You tell me then," Alfons mumbled.

"_Isn't it that you're afraid that I've forgotten about you?"_

Alfons' breathing ragged up, his chest heaving rapidly up and down, still being in a state of post-orgasmic exhaustion. Awfully agitated by himself, he knew that Edward's ghost was his own true conscious and that he would always be right when it came to how he was really feeling. Secrets didn't exist anymore. Maybe even his and Edward's relationship didn't.

As awful as it sounded, it did make sense, didn't it?

He swallowed and whispered out in the dark. "Al forgot about me. Perhaps everyone in the other world did when I disappeared. What if you have too? I'm afraid that you have forgotten everything we had, that I even existed, and no one but me will be left remembering the best time of my life. The best time of my life has always revolved around you, and why would you want to be with me again if all of that is gone? I'd go insane. I already am about to."

His eyes had flowed over at that point and the pillow beneath his head was getting soaked with salt water by his ears.

Edward sat up, away from him and rested his metallic elbow on a pushed up knee. Skin pale as silk, he was silent for a long time, so long that Alfons thought he was gone as well. But in the end he spoke again.

"_Even if__ I forgot about you, you haven't given up on me, have you?"_

Even his imaginary Edward was hurt. Even more than before.

"No, that's not it," Alfons cried. "It's just… everything has turned against us! I don't know what to do and I don't want to put Al in danger."

"_Of course__,"_ Edward said. _"I guess that's reason enough to believe that I'm—"_

"Edward!" Alfons burst out and sat up, eyes wide open, determined not to let him finish that sentence. Breathless and lightheaded, his cobalt eyes searched every corner of the room, but Edward wasn't there. Somehow Alfons almost felt broken up. His left hand was sticky with semen and he made a grimace, feeling both devastated and disgusted with himself. What had he been thinking? Nothing he ever did or touched would bring him closer to Edward.

He stood up and went to the bathroom, washed his hands off and went back to bed again. But no matter how much he tried, sleep didn't come to him that night.

* * *

The following days he spent working again together with his old rocket team, which were all pleased to have him back. He was vague with answering all the questions of where he had been and what he had been doing and where Edward had gone, and the guys seemed to accept it like that. While he was away in the day, Alphonse spent his time reading or taking small trips to the library. Al was leisurely learning more and more about this new world, and he had silently grown to accept that he wouldn't come back to his own world again.

Al still didn't particularly like this world. There had been countless wars through the years; people were fighting over religion and skin colour, and overall political differences. There were also many similarities between the Ishbal War and the Great War. Both of them had lasted for seven years, and both had been a massacre.

Friday morning he had woken up early, listening to Alfons getting ready for work and then leave the apartment. Al began to get used to hanging around alone around the flat. Only a few times getting a visitor he sometimes would've preferred to not have.

"_You can't sleep?"_ Schiller asked. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his stubble cheeks.

Al shifted onto his side and sighed. "No, I have too much on my mind."

"_You two seem to get along much better lately,"_ Schiller noted. _"Do you remember anything?"_

"No, it's still very blank in some places," Al replied. "I don't think I'll ever get them back. But Heiderich has told me about most of it."

Schiller nodded. _"You haven't told him about the seventeenth, have you?"_

Al pulled his covers a little higher up to his nose. There would be a full moon soon. Only three days left. "Of course not... There's no way I can tell him anything."

"_Why not? You don't know what might happen. I know Alfons Heiderich would do __everything he can to help you."_

"There's nothing he can do," Al said in a low voice. "He'll just be in the way... Most likely he'll do everything to stop me from going. But if I don't do what Dietrich says, he'll hurt someone. He threatened to kill Heiderich. I can't take any risks."

"_You'll already take a risk by going on your own,"_ Schiller pointed out. _"I don't want you to become harmed."_

Al sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I'll think of something." He still had three days left. It was plenty of time to come up with some sort of plan.

With all of his father's books to read, Al made the weekend go suitably fast by reading them, even discovering something new and interesting about them. It was Sunday night, and he was sitting together with Alfons by the kitchen table, eating some leftover dinner from earlier meals they had had the first week they had lived together. With one of the books sprawled open on the table, Al brightened up.

"Some of the books seem to be coded," he said excitedly. "I've noticed a lot of small black dots in the text which has to be some kind of message from my dad."

Alfons paused his eating without much of a vocal reply.

"Hopefully I can find out more of the Gate and maybe about how alchemy is used in this world," Al mused.

Uncomfortably, Alfons cast a long glance onto the book Al was reading. "Edward had a coded book in Amestris too," he admitted. "It was from the same stock."

Al looked up. "Oh, I think I remember he mentioned that. But he never told me what it said."

Alfons' eyes darkened. "It said that two parallel people can't live in the same world."

Al had just taken a sip of water, but inconveniently coughed it up over half of the kitchen table. "It said what?"

Alfons rose calmly and fetched a paper towel, handed it to Al and sat back down again. "It didn't bring the best of news, no. That was the reason why the Gate was erasing me from people's memories."

Al stared horrified at him. "Then... will the same happen to me?"

Alfons shook his head. "No. This case is different. The Gate had somehow chosen me to be its human container, or something like that. So it probably didn't want people to remember me. When Edward switched places with me, it was to get you here safely too. Anyway, the coded book also said something about alchemy in this world."

"What is that?"

"It's unbalanced," Alfons said. "Objects in general can't be moved from one world to another without disturbing this balance and the same counts for alchemy itself. It doesn't belong here. There will be bad consequences for the ones who use it."

Al remembered that Edward had said something like that too, in the heat of being captured by Thule Society and trying to get Dietlinde Eckart to see some sense of reason. "Oh, that's right..." Al mused.

Dietlinde Eckart had said that the power source could strike various people in this world and make them capable of doing alchemy. And then Dietrich had showed up and said partly the same thing. But these 'consequences' could hurt the ones capable of using it, or make the alchemy unstable. He couldn't help wondering. Maybe there actually were other people out there who could do alchemy in this world, without even knowing it yet?

"Please, Al, just forget about it," Alfons tried half-heartedly. "Those codes never lead to any good news, at least not so far."

"But I'm curious and this is the only source I got," Al stated. "Besides, he's been referring a lot to another book in these codes." He stared down at the book. Every letter in front of a small dot could be put together into a new meaning.

"Another book?" Alfons echoed.

"Yes, like a notebook," Al elaborated. "Everything he's referred to in these codes seem to have a connection to it, though I can't remember seeing any notebook among the stock of all the other ones." He rested his cheek in his palm with a silent groan. "Still I'll look over again tomorrow to be sure, or see if it's hidden somewhere else. I need to find it to understand the real meaning."

"Ah," Alfons commented, pretending not to know what he was talking about and took a sip of water before standing up from the table. He cleared off his finished plate and brought it to the sink where he rinsed it with cold water. He knew for sure, Al would never find that notebook, and he ought to leave it at that.

* * *

The next morning Alfons went to work as usual. Before he left, his eyes fell on the calendar hanging over the stove and he had a strange feeling lurking in his stomach. It was the seventeenth. He didn't want to leave Al alone, not knowing what he might be up to. Still, he left anyway. He wanted to trust that Al wouldn't do anything stupid. Still he wondered, what was so special about the full moon? Edward had never mentioned anything about it to him before.

It was a busy day at work. The rocket they were currently developing was a completely new prototype, where they were experimenting with use of liquid propellants capable of reaching both higher altitudes and distances than former models.

He was looking over a problem with one of the engines when Falman joined his side to help. "It's starting to look like something, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Alfons agreed. "Although, it would've been nothing without you. You're the one who makes the boat float."

Falman gave him a side-glance, appreciating the sentiment. "How is it being back, Alfons?" he asked.

Alfons returned a faint smile, drying his oiled hands on a rag. "I'm glad I could continue working here," he said. "But I… I wish Edward was here too."

"So do I," Falman said. "He was a very bright kid. I hope he'll pull through."

Alfons turned back to the engine again. "Al is sure that he will…"

"Aren't you?"

Alfons didn't answer.

"Hey," Falman put a hand on his shoulder. "Edward isn't just smart. He's strong too. You know that even better than I do. You should believe in him."

"I do believe in him…" Alfons wished he could sound more convincing. He did believe in Edward, after all. But not even Edward had won against the Gate…

"How is it going with you and Alphonse?" Falman asked, kindly changing the subject.

"Good, I think. Although, I think he's hiding something from me," Alfons admitted.

"Well, he probably doesn't feel accustomed to everything yet," Falman said. "You should give him some time and then maybe in time you won't even have to ask him. He'll tell you when he's ready for it."

"Maybe you're right," Alfons said. Although, he hoped he was just paranoid and that everything would be like normal when he got home.

* * *

Streams of sun poked through the curtains of the bedroom widow, rousing Al out of a deep sleep. The moment he opened his eyes, the thought of which day it was brought his mind into a stream of thought. It was the seventeenth, and there would be a full moon. Today he might be able to perform an alchemical transmutation again. He didn't know if it would actually work, but he had felt something when he tried the first time. That had to count for something.

If only a small one, it was a possibility that could lead him significantly closer to his brother.

Al stood up from bed and stepped over to the window, staring out at the vivid sky. There were some clouds, but it was still too bright to see the moon. Still, he turned back to the desk and found his brother's finished transmutation circle.

With a deep breath, centring his mind on the circle, he clapped and touched it. He hadn't hoped for too much, knowing that it was a large chance of disappointment. There was no spark, no reaction happening. But his hands… His heart beat faster in his chest as he felt the heat spreading through his palms. His hands grew warm like holding them over smouldering flames.

Slowly, he lifted his hands off the sheet and watched them in awe. His hands were burning and flowing with invisible energy. It didn't hurt, it felt rather good. Though, it didn't take many seconds before the heat died down and his hands felt normal again.

Still, it had been some sort of reaction nonetheless. Al felt even more excited. Maybe alchemy would start to work for real once the full moon was visible from the sky. He hoped his theory was correct.

He stepped into the kitchen, his heart still beating loudly, and readied himself some breakfast. His mind circled around his meeting with Dietrich tonight, wondering what he should do. There was no way he could just _not _show up. There was no saying what Dietrich might do if Al didn't obey him. Al felt a little nervous, but his mind was set.

Alfons half expected Al not to be home when he came from the factory that afternoon, but to his light surprise he found the younger bronze-haired boy sitting in the kitchen with a book sprawled on the table and reading while eating a sandwich.

"Hi," Alfons greeted suspiciously as Al looked up and waved.

"I'm sorry for eating right before dinner but I was reading the whole day and got hungry," Al explicated fast in one breath.

"That's alright," Alfons said, slightly taken-aback. "I'll just make a sandwich too and then we can have dinner later."

"Great!" Al beamed.

Something was definitely not right. Alfons didn't even know why he was suspicious. If Al was up to something, he would've had plenty of time alone while he was gone. He stepped over to the counter to make himself some food. "So, did you read anything more about this world?" he asked artlessly.

"Yeah, I've been studying some geography and compared it to my world," Al said.

"Really?" Alfons said.

"M-m. The shape of Germany kind of reminds me of the shape of Amestris, and there's a town here called Regensburg at pretty much the same spot as Resembool is in my world. I thought the names resembled each other, so I wondered if we could go there sometime." Al smiled faintly. "Maybe places are parallel too, and that Regensburg looks like Resembool."

Alfons sat down by the table with a sandwich on a plate, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. That was pretty interesting. He wondered if Edward had ever noticed. "Sure we can go there sometime," he said. "I haven't been there myself, so I don't know exactly what it looks like."

"Brother will come with us too," Al said.

Alfons smiled dimly. "I hope so."

_That would've been__ just perfect..._

Later that evening, Al went to the hall and put on his boots and brown coat. Before Alfons could ask, he said: "I'm going to the library, it won't take long."

"The library is closing in half an hour," Alfons said. "Shouldn't you wait until tomorrow?"

"It's not that far," Al said. "I'll make it, and I'll be right back."

Alfons couldn't really refuse him to leave the house, even if he had a bad feeling. "Okay," he said. "I'll start cooking some dinner when you get back then."

"Sounds good. Bye!" Al disappeared out the door, and Alfons cast a long stare out of the kitchen window at the clear night sky where the full moon shone brightly.

"Please tell me I'm overreacting," Alfons muttered to himself. "I'm paranoid. Nothing's wrong." But his imaginary Edward neither denied nor approved it as facts. If Edward had really been there with them, he would probably have demanded Al to tell him the real truth.

Al's dish was left on the table and Alfons picked it up and stepped over to the sink with it while trying to keep convincing himself that he had no reason to follow after Al. As he was about to put the plate down, he noticed a line carved into the white porcelain, like it had been broken in half and then glued back together. Though, there were no traces of glue. Alfons studied the plate carefully, wondering how that had happened.

It couldn't have been repaired with—?

His breath hitched as he felt something strangely warm against his hip and drew his hand down into his pocket, picking up the little red stone from the deposit box that he always kept close to him. He held it on the flat of his palm, seeing it glowing brightly and glittering in the dark and a light shudder of anxiety raced down his spine.

The crimson stone was reacting to something. Red light reflected in his eyes as he lifted his gaze back towards the bright moon and muttered some curses under his breath. "Shit..."

* * *

The pure white snow was gleaming in the light of the moon as Alphonse wandered calmly down the streets of Munich towards the main town bridge. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his large coat, and the hood was pulled over his head, hiding his ponytail. It was still only a quarter to eight, giving him exactly fifteen minutes of agitating anticipation from what this man called Dietrich really wanted with him.

Alphonse had mixed feelings about this situation. He knew it was probably a dangerous clue, but he didn't want to miss out on it either. Maybe his good heart gave his gullibility time to roam free, which he knew were one of his weak sides, but this man could possibly know things valuable to him. If they could somehow work together, he would definitely be a step closer to his brother. That was what mattered the most. Though, if Dietrich's intentions were anything but good at heart, Al would be in big trouble and of course not involve himself any further with the man. Dietrich had threatened to kill someone after all, he couldn't look past that fact. Therefore, he had decided to remain cautious, but first listen to what the man had to say.

The bridge was large, with both a sidewalk and a road into the centre of the city. A couple of automobiles passed by Al from the bridge as it came into view. But there were hardly any people walking out at this hour, probably because of the awfully low temperature.

He stepped onto the sidewalk of the broad bridge, his hands still resting inside the warm pockets of his winter coat, and he stopped. In the middle section of the bridge stood a man dressed in a long white coat and bowler hat, waiting next to his automobile, smoke oozing up from his cigarette and dissolving in the air.

Al stood still for a moment, his back straight and his palms feeling clammy inside his pockets. There was perhaps a minute of distance between him and the man, and he was nervous. He didn't have either metal armour or his brother around to protect him; he had to admit it had always been convenient in the past to have either of the alternatives. He almost flinched when the man ahead raised a hand and waved, signalling him to come over.

Right now, Al just wanted to go back, but it was too late. If he turned, the man would simply drive after him and he couldn't outrun an automobile. Not even in all this snow.

He pulled himself together and started walking again, his eyes rigorously fixed towards the man. He didn't stop or say anything before he was at a range of three meters from the man.

Dietrich took his cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling the smoke from his nose. "I'm glad you came, Alphonse. Now, are you ready to show me?"

"Show you what?" Al asked, even if he already knew what he meant.

Dietrich smiled. "Come here." He reached out his hand. "It's a prime full moon," he unnecessarily elaborated. "Just like your father has described. One of Amestrian origin and a few chosen ones of this world are able to do alchemy today."

Al was vaguely reluctant on moving closer, and remained standing still at his spot. "Is that all you want?" he inquired. "For me to show you?"

"No," Dietrich said, approaching a step. With predatory eyes he went on: "I want to help you get your brother back. In exchange, I want you to help me find these chosen ones. You already knew that before you came here, and you came. Which means, deep down you want to do it and you know it. So what do you say, shall we take a ride?"


	5. Bloodshed

Aevium has written a one shot called** "Images of a Soul" **which I recommend to all of you. It uses my own story line during _The Wrong World_ and gives a deeper insight. The side story takes place between chapter 3 and 4. There's a link in my profile. ;)

**Warning:** There will be non-con in later chapters (much later). I will come with a further warning when the time comes, just thought you should know.

* * *

**CHAPTER 5: BLOODSHED**

"_I want to help you get your brother back. In exchange, I want you to help me find these chosen ones. You already knew that before you came here, and you came. Which means, deep down you want to do it and you know it. So what do you say, shall we take a ride?"_

The offer was pretty simple. It consisted of something Al wished to do most in the world, while also something he didn't wish to do at all.

At least this confirmed his suspicions that there could be others out there. Chosen ones. He couldn't help being curious about that part. But wouldn't the performance of alchemy in this world disturb this balance his father, brother and even Alfons Heiderich had spoken so much about? Especially if people from _this_ world were to do alchemy.

Still, it was obvious what weighed the most in Al's books. Nothing would ever become a higher priority to him than getting his older brother back. Dietrich definitely knew something. He had an incomplete philosopher's stone, after all. Tonight was the only night in a long time he might have a chance to get his brother back. After the full moon was gone, it would be too late. The red stones could be exactly what Al needed to be able to reopen the Gate. But he didn't know if it would be wise to do it with help from red stones, after all.

Long ago he and his brother decided _not_ to use the souls of other humans to become normal, and he still wanted to live by that rule. But what if the stone was essential in this world to be able to open the Gate? He didn't know what method his brother had used when he opened it in this world. Would it be that wrong to use the stone? At least these lost souls would have a place to go to, and they wouldn't have died for nothing. Al was terribly unsure about what was the right ethical thing to do.

"What will it be, Alphonse?" Dietrich interrupted his train of thought. "Your brother is waiting for you somewhere, isn't he? I've heard that this Gate is really magnificent. It could store him up for years, but the longer you wait, even longer time itself will feel for your brother, right? If he stays in there too long, will he be the same when he returns?"

Al took a nervous breath. "I know my brother. He's stronger than anyone else. If anyone can pull through something like that, it's him."

As the words settled between them, Alphonse noticed some slight movement from the backseat inside of the automobile standing nearby and became even more wary. There were two of them? Another one who knew about everything? The figure was merely a dark contour of someone he couldn't identify.

"Who is that?" Al asked.

"Just a friend of mine," Dietrich replied shortly. "You'll get to know him if you come with us. Have you made up your mind?"

Al hesitated for a moment before answering. "Yes... I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

Something darkened in the man's eyes. "And why is that?" He approached another step.

Al backpedalled, knowing he needed to prepare more. He needed an array, a proper and hidden place to perform the transmutation, something to give up in exchange. Tonight was too short for all that. It would be a complicated transmutation. However, this world was real enough now that he knew he _could_ use alchemy, and he knew _when_. It would take some time before his next chance would come, but by then he would be ready.

"I will find a way to bring him back on my own," he declared. "I'm sorry, but it'll be unsafe for either you or anyone else to get close to alchemy. The Gate is magnificent yes, but it's also the most dangerous thing that exists."

Before he could move away, Dietrich abruptly gripped the collar of his jacket and pulled him close like hauling in a fish. Al gasped a bit and cringed away from the grin splitting across the man's face.

"Ah, are you worried for me? Isn't that cute." His grip tightened and Al winced. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't regret it," Dietrich went on. "I'm a gentleman really, but if you refuse..." He let the threat hang in the air among the frosty mist of his breath.

Al's eyes hardened. Without a word, he quickly clapped his hands and felt the familiar flow of energy surge through his body like warm sun streams through a magnifying glass, burning stronger from the tips of his fingers and creating sparkles of blue and white. The bright lightening shaped by the powerful energy shot down all around them, startling Dietrich enough to let go of him and propel backwards. From the looks of it, this was the first time he had seen alchemy for real.

Al didn't waste any time, and as Dietrich stared in awe at the visualized blue glints of energy, he pressed his hands into the snow on the ground. Using the snow, he built a thick wall that grew taller than himself across the road of the bridge, making it impossible to drive an automobile over it unless the man used some time to dig his way through.

"I'm sorry. Leave us alone, please!" Al called, then whipped around and darted into a run.

"Alphonse!" the man yelled after him. "Stop! Come back here, I'm not finished talking with you!"

Al ignored him and kept running. As he reached the end of the bridge he turned around to look over his shoulder, noticing that the man had abandoned his auto and had chose to follow him. That hadn't been what Al had hoped he would do. He had hoped the man would give up on him and leave. Clearly, he had to come up with something better.

Deciding quickly, he made a sharp turn to the right by the end of the bridge and headed down the steeping way towards the river in snow deep enough to reach him to the hips, hoping that Dietrich wouldn't follow him down there. The way was so steep that he almost tumbled forward into a living snowball.

"Where are you going, Alphonse?" the man called behind him, sounding amused. "If you think that ice will hold you—"

Al ignored him and reached the end of the ground and kept running on the broad iced river. It was much easier to run now because of the uneven ice, even if his pants were soaked with frozen snow and his feet numb by the cold. He was already far away from Dietrich, who didn't seem to want to follow him onto the river. Al saw him give up on following him and turn back.

He sighed in relief, as he kept running fast. At least he had lost the man. Maybe everything might work itself out now. He didn't need that man any more than he needed Alfons Heiderich. He would get his brother back on his own.

But, he soon found a new problem. The ice was indeed not safe. It was thin, and in several places much darker because of the cold water shining through it. Al slowed down a little, and avoided the most critical spots. He would climb back up one of the sheer steeps when he considered it safe enough to go back to the city. The thought that Dietrich might be waiting for him at home still nagged the back of his mind, but on the other hand, for all Dietrich knew he could be headed to the police station first. That would probably be the wisest thing to do, after all.

Suddenly a loud crack sounded beneath his foot, and Al literally froze. A large split formed in the ice between his feet, and he let out a cry as his leg went through the layers of ice. With his knee bent and his other leg getting pierced by the blades of cold, icy water, Al leaned forward and carefully managed to pull his leg up from the hole. His entire leg had gone numb, and his boot felt heavy.

The ice started to crack all around him and with a quick gasp, Al clapped his hands together and pressed them against the ice. Blue sparkles danced over the surface of the ice as Alphonse solidified it beneath his palms, making it safe to move on.

Al couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. He was doing alchemy in the other world! _Real_ alchemy. Even without using his blood as a source. The plate he had accidentally broken earlier and then put back together hadn't been perfect, as the alchemy felt more exhausting to perform in this world than his own. It had been hard to do it at first, but he felt like he was getting the hang of it now. If his brother had seen this, he would've been full with excitement and pride. Al could hardly wait to show it to him one day. He let out a long, relieved breath.

Feeling rather good about himself, he found a good place to climb back up from the river, despite having a leg that literally felt like a massive ice cube.

It was first after that he noticed that he was in a complete different part of the city. He had never been there before, and it was probably the total opposite direction from the library where he had told Alfons he was heading. Neither did he know which direction the police station was. The clock was already long past eight, and if he didn't return soon Alfons would start to suspect that something was wrong.

He sighed deeply. What a stupid mess. He just wanted to get back home and get back to some warmth by the fireplace.

Al decided to follow the river back to the bridge to be sure he wouldn't get entirely lost. However, someone else had already beaten him to that idea. He recognized Dietrich's automobile at a long distance before it reached him, but it was already too late. They must have seen him too. Likely they had driven the auto the opposite way off the bridge and crossed another bridge to get to the same side of the river he would be. _Not_ good.

Al whipped around again and made a run for it in the opposite direction. Would it never end? What in the world was Dietrich really intending? What would he do to Al if he caught up to him? Al had a bad feeling that he would get really lost if he didn't get rid of his follower. The thought of being kidnapped again didn't actually sound very appealing. He could of course put up a fight, even if the odds weren't exactly good. Dietrich had his automobile now, plus the fact that he was much bigger and Al was already freezing cold to his bones. It would be easy for the man to drag him into the vehicle and drive away.

The automobile horn honked behind him.

Al was starting to sense the claws of defeat stretching after him. He was tired and his legs were giving up. His wet clothes were about to freeze stuck to his skin. His mouth tasted of blood and his lungs struggled to absorb the icy air. He couldn't take it anymore. Eventually Al stopped up and panted after his breath, leaning forward on his knees.

The automobile stopped as well at some distance behind him, and the white-suited man stepped out. Still wheezing, Al turned around in a defeated manner, and watched Dietrich walking calmly closer.

"Enough now," Dietrich said. "Come with me, Alphonse. I'll take good care of you, and you will have all the freedom you want once you help me."

Al didn't believe that for a second, but he didn't say anything.

"Your alchemy was amazing," Dietrich complimented. "I've never seen anything like it. It could even help people, right?"

"People like you?" Al asked, teeth gritting from the cold.

"No, people like _you_," Dietrich corrected. "But you're special, Alphonse."

"I'm not special," Al said. "If there really are people out there like me, they're better off never knowing about alchemy."

"You're wrong. Aren't you using this gift to save your brother?" The older man stretched his hand out and stopped a couple of meters from Al, the small red stone resting in his hand and glowing brightly in a soft hue of scarlet. "Come with me and it's yours."

Al stared at it while still breathing heavily, frosty air drawing from his lungs and decorated the air among him. It was almost like he could feel invisible strings pulling him towards the red stone, given that the chance of escaping had neglected him anyway. The stone _could _bring Edward back. And he couldn't risk that Dietrich wouldn't kill someone if he didn't do as he said...

Suddenly another familiar, black automobile came into an abrupt halt behind Al, and a door opened on the passenger side.

"Al!" a voice called loudly.

Al whipped around towards the voice, seeing Alfons Heiderich in the front seat and leaning over the passenger seat to hold the door up on his side.

"Get into the car!" Alfons ordered.

Al only hesitated for a second before complying. He quickly ran across the sidewalk and leaped into the automobile and slammed the door shut.

Alfons stepped on the gas pedal and the vehicle accelerated fast forward, quickly leaping ahead into a high speed.

The younger boy gave out a small sigh and twisted his head around to stare after the man standing left behind on the sidewalk. Al had just about enough time to see the steely eyes narrow and a slight grin forming on his features. Turning back with a shudder, Al avoided meeting Alfons' hard stare.

"What were you doing out here?" Alfons demanded as his eyes fixed back on the road, but kept his voice stern.

"Calm down!" Al retorted. "You don't have to get angry at me."

"I'm not so sure," Alfons replied sharply. "Why did I catch you accompanying that man again? I thought I told you to stay away from him. And... why are you all wet?"

"I went through some deep snow," Al muttered. "And he wanted to talk to me."

"What?" Alfons clutched a little tighter around the wheel. "What the hell does he want with you? You're aware that he's bad news, I hope? Why did you even accept to meet with him?"

Al bit his teeth together. He didn't want to lie, but still it took some willpower to swallow his pride enough to be honest. "On some occasions, alchemy works in this world. Today is a day like that, and he wanted me to teach him how to do it. In exchange he wanted to help me getting back my brother."

Alfons' jaw went slack. "Al..." He didn't know what to say. He was still angry, even if he didn't want to be. "You can't trust that man," he said. "I just know it, he's got Thule Society written all over him. He had _Envy's_ red stone."

"So did my father," Al said. "And even if he worked with them, he wasn't a bad person. Anyway, how did you know where I was?"

Alfons went quiet for some seconds and stared intently straight forward. "I don't know... A feeling."

"A feeling?" Al asked sceptically. "What are you, a psychic?"

"It didn't take much guessing to figure out that you weren't going to the library at least," Alfons retorted. "When did this man tell you to meet him anyway?"

"It was in the grocery store," Al confessed.

"What?" Alfons burst out. "It sounds to me like he's stalking you and is up to no good."

"Don't be ridiculous," Al replied crossly. "He was just interested in alchemy, that's all."

Al caught himself after he had said the words. Why was he defending Dietrich when he was really feeling the same way about him? He wasn't up to anything good at all, Al could easily tell. Involving himself with that man had been a very bad idea. Still, he was frustrated over the fact that Heiderich was right when he in general had no clue. Most of all Al was frustrated over Alfons' obvious reluctance to acknowledge that he could bring Edward back.

"We can't take any unnecessary risks," Alfons said. "Alchemy is a power too great to be used in this world, especially by people connected with the Thule Society. Are you sure you're able to use it?"

"I used it alright," Al muttered. "I transmuted a wall of snow and solidified ice on the river."

"And... the plate back home?" Alfons asked, his voice softening.

"Yes."

Alfons went silent for a long time. Eventually he stopped the automobile and stepped out. "Come," he just said.

Al stepped slowly out of the vehicle as well and closed the door. He didn't recognize this street, but he could tell that it wasn't very far from Vato Falman's neighbourhood.

Alfons stopped in front of him with a serene expression. "Can you show me?"

Al hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah." He clapped and kneeled down to touch the ground. Familiar blue sparkles shot up right before Alfons' eyes _(oh how it reminded him of Edward to a point it almost hurt) _and the alchemic reaction melted the snow beneath Al's hands.

After the reaction died down, Al straightened up again and gave Alfons an expectant look. Now he had proven that he could do it. Maybe Heiderich would finally change his mind? Maybe he would now see that he had what it took to bring Edward back?

"Al," Alfons said slowly. "You can't use alchemy ever again."

Al's jaw dropped to the pavement. "What?"

"You heard me," Alfons said.

"But it's the only thing that can bring my brother back!" Al protested loudly.

"No, it cannot," Alfons disputed shortly. "Nothing good will come out of it, and this man knows that you have this power. If this knowledge comes out further, you'll be in even more danger. That's how it is, and I don't really want to have this discussion right now—"

"But—"

"—so no buts!"

Al shut his mouth and simply glowered angrily at him, his clenched fists shaking at his sides. He couldn't believe this. Alfons had _no right_ to decide that...

"This way," Alfons continued, and stepped hurriedly towards the house they had stopped by.

"Who lives here?" Al asked sullenly.

"Someone who can help us." Alfons knocked on the door. A few moments later, Officer Hughes opened the door.

"Oh, if it isn't the two Als," he greeted cheerfully. "What a nice surprise!"

"I'm sorry for showing up this late, sir," Alfons said. "But we have a small problem."

"I'm always here for you, come in," Hughes said kindly.

Gracia was in the living room as well, knitting something next to the warm fireplace. "Hi Alfons and Al," she said with a smile. "Are you doing okay?"

"They said they were having a problem," Hughes said. "Sit down and tell me all about it."

"I'll make some cocoa," Gracia said, sending Al a worried look. "You look like you're freezing."

"It's fine, but thanks," Al said, feeling a little embarrassed.

Alfons dropped down on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees. "There's a guy who is after Al."

Hughes frowned. "After him?" He turned to Al. "Has he done something to you or harmed you?"

"No," Al said, as the truth was.

"He's stalking him," Alfons shot in.

"He didn't _stalk_ me," Al protested.

"Then explain why he's been showing up everywhere lately," Alfons challenged. "And I'm pretty sure he's armed."

Al didn't have a suitable reply to that.

"Could you describe him for me?" Hughes tried, scratching his temple.

Al sat down in a chair with a small sigh. "His first name is Dietrich; I don't know his last name. Tall, long dark hair in a ponytail, a long white coat and a bowler hat."

Hughes noted it down. "What did he say to you?"

"He wanted to meet me..." Al hesitated. "He threatened to hurt someone if I didn't show up."

He noticed Alfons staring intently at him. He hadn't told him about that until now, and neither had he told him that Dietrich had more specifically threatened to hurt _Alfons._ But admitting that out loud was the same as agreeing that Alfons had been right about everything, which he _wasn't!_

"That sounds quite serious to me," Hughes said. "Why did he want to meet you?"

"He knows that I'm from another world," Al said. "He wants to know more about it or something. There were two of them tonight, but the other just sat in the auto, so I didn't see his face." He left out everything about the alchemy, and Alfons looked pleased with that.

Maes Hughes nodded. "I will see what I can do. Hopefully, this Dietrich will be easily recognizable and we'll bring him in for some questioning."

"Thank you, sir," Alfons said.

Al avoided the other's eyes and sank a little deeper down in his chair. Clearly, Heiderich would keep refusing to understand. But that didn't mean that he had anything to say in the matters concerning it. Alfons Heiderich might be the only connection he had to his world, but Al was his own person and had the right to make his own decisions. He settled with that thought in mind.

* * *

He hadn't slept much that night. By the next morning the taboo alchemy-topic they had discussed yesterday had still not been brought up again. In exchange there was a huge tension between them which made Alfons feel awkward and uncomfortable wherever he went in the apartment. It was Saturday and he had the day off, even though he would've preferred to go to work. Al was silent and every lame attempt Alfons did to encourage a conversation was responded to with monotone one syllable sentences.

Maybe he was acting a little bit unfair. Al's alchemy was as great as his brother's had been, and Al was careful. But Alfons would never deny him anything without good intentions behind it, didn't that count for something too? They were in the _wrong world!_

He opened the newspaper by the kitchen table with a cup of strong coffee next to him. He'd need it unless his willpower to stay awake ran out, and let himself succumb to the temptation of sleeping off the entire weekend to make time go faster. He felt so pathetic. He couldn't _function_ properly anymore...

There was a chaos of headlines on the front page. His eyes scanned idly trough the articles. Apparently there had been some sort of accident last night. Several people had been killed in a huge explosion, possibly a gas blast. But the investigators weren't completely sure what had caused it yet.

Alfons rested his head in palm and sipped some coffee. It didn't taste any good at all—still he drank it anyway. Every time it came to drinking something, Edward had said: _"We waste not!"_

The door to Al's bedroom opened and his younger roommate shuffled across the living room floor to the kitchen. He was still dressed in Edward's old pyjama and his bronze hair hang loosely down his back.

"I made eggs for you," Alfons said.

"Ah," Al muttered tediously, picked out a glass from the cabinet above the counter, poured some orange juice, and then trailed back to his room without touching eggs or food.

Alfons sighed and wanted to throw himself out the window and drown in the huge pile of snow beneath. What was he doing wrong? He was trying the best he could! With a groan Alfons let his head drop down in his arms on the table flat. He just wanted to sleep.

* * *

Al dropped down on the floor, Indian style, with his glass of juice and stared idly at the prosthetic arm lying in front of him. Alfons had tucked most of the things that had belonged to Edward into his bedroom, most of his clothes and all of his spare prosthetics, to give Al some space. But Al had snuck into his room while he was at work the other day and brought one set of his brother's prosthetics back.

"_You've been quite miserable lately,"_ Schiller noted. _"Aren't you going to try squaring up with him? He's your only friend in this world, after all."_ He was seated comfortably on Al's bed and studied the cover of a book lying there next to him.

"No," Al muttered. "There's no use. And you're wrong." He had started to become accustomed to Schiller's presence. He had been showing up a lot lately, especially after Alfons Heiderich had decided to take over his whole life, which was probably the reason why he felt so miserable all the time. "He's not my friend because he wants to be. Maybe we were once, but everything is different now."

Al put down the glass of juice and picked up a screw driver. Then he started to take the prosthetic arm apart from each other, bit by bit. Occasionally he was scribbling down some notes under the sketch he had already drawn of the arm.

Schiller leaned closer, curiously studying what he was doing. _"Can I ask you, kiddo, why exactly are you taking that prosthetic apart?"_

Al looked up and smiled brightly at him. "It's pretty simple really. My brother will need new prosthetics when he comes back, and I want to improve them for him. These are quite heavy and restricted compared to Winry's automail. Even if I spent most of the time separated from my brother to train and look for him, I also spent some time with Winry. While being around her, it isn't possible to _not_ pick up a few things about metal limbs."

Schiller scratched his stubble chin. _"I see. You're really sure your brother will be back, aren't you?"_

"Of course I am," Al said matter-of-factly. "I won't simply sit around and mourn and do nothing, unlike someone else I know." He returned to what he was doing, removing the front plate of the forearm and studied the connection of wires. "Although, since I can't bring him back before the next prime moon, I have to do what I can in the meantime. I've started to work on an array as well. The problem is to find a good place to draw and activate it. It has to be big, like the one in Thule Society's hideout in my world."

Schiller scoffed. _"Be sure to keep that power away from everyone else. If anyone sees it, they'll just want it."_

"I've already experienced that," Al said darkly. "More than once."

Schiller was silent for a couple of minutes, watching him work. It didn't seem like it was bothering the boy, after all. If Alphonse didn't want him around, he'd of course leave. But he would have no places to go. The drawing against Al's strong feelings was pulling at his soul by an invisible force, like a magnet. Sometimes the magnet was negative and pushed him away, letting him draw back into his own dimension of darkness. But other times, like now, Al's determination and frustration was drawing him close and keeping him present.

It wasn't anywhere close to being alive, but he didn't mind.

After some time Al had stopped working and was regarding him closely, pulling the older man out of his trance.

"Do you ever rest in peace when you're not here?" Al asked.

Schiller relaxed forward with his elbows on his knees. _"If I said yes, I would be lying, kiddo. There's no place for me to rest."_

Al cowered a bit, feeling terrible. It had to be awful for Schiller to be like this. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I know alchemy works now. Maybe there's a way you can..." Al halted in the middle of the sentence. His intention had been to say _leave this world_. But what if Schiller didn't want to leave? Munich was his home.

Schiller sensed his troubled expression. _"I wish there was a way. I have nothing to do here. But I don't want you to risk yourself for me. You need to focus on getting your brother back."_

"I'll keep it in mind anyway," Al said. "I want to help you." It was his fault that Schiller had ended up following him to his world. Unless he found a way for Schiller to go back to the Gate, his soul would keep wandering bodiless in this world, unable to interact or speak to anyone than him. It must be lonely, being like that.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door to his room, and Al stiffened a bit.

"Al, can I come in?" Alfons' voice asked.

"Sure," Al replied in a rather uninviting tone.

Alfons went inside and his eyes fell on the floor where Al kept his current obsession. Metal parts, screws and bolts and wires were sorted out in small heaps all around where Al was sitting, and the shell of the prosthetic spread in front of him. Alfons' eyes narrowed. "What is all this?"

Al shrugged. "My brother's prosthetic. Why?"

"Why have you taken it apart?" Alfons wanted to know. Somehow the sight of the hollowed metal limb horrified him.

"I'm just looking at it," Al persisted. "I was going to put it back together again."

"How?" Alfons was sceptic. "You've ruined it."

"Why do you care anyway?" Al shot out. "You don't even believe my brother will come back."

Alfons winced. No doubt Al had hit a nerve. "I'm not here to talk about that," he replied stiffly. "You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Al stated.

"You haven't eaten anything since dinner yesterday," Alfons pointed out crossly.

Al stood up abruptly and turned to him with flaming bronze eyes. "I _don't want_ anything. Not from you, not from anyone! The only thing I want is my brother, and I'm going to take care of that myself. Stop bothering me, please!"

Alfons parted his lips to reply, but something made him stop before any vocal sound managed to slip past. He didn't understand any of this! Why wouldn't Al eat? He usually had an appetite akin to his brother's, and Alfons felt like he was failing on his responsibility for the youth. Or was it that he was completely unable to take care of Al at all?

"Get out!" Al shouted, and Alfons realized he had just been standing there and looked stupid for some seconds.

He turned in the doorway without a word and shuffled into the living room. The door was slammed shut behind him, and he let out a deep sigh. He shouldn't worry too much though. Al would eat when he was hungry. Simple as that.

The couch looked dreadfully alluring and Alfons let himself drop down on his stomach on it, wanting to sleep away some time, but his eyes stayed completely alert.

Inside his heart, Edward quirked an eyebrow at him. _"What are you doing?"_

"I don't know," Alfons whispered. "Perhaps I can't do this after all."

"_I will hear nothing of that,"_ Edward stated. _"He only needs some time, that's all. I didn't ask you to take care of him for me if I thought you couldn't do it."_

"Will you come back?" Alfons asked.

Edward went quiet.

"Even my imaginary you can't say you'll come back," Alfons murmured. He had thought being heartbroken meant that someone's heart was broken. But he felt like he had literally broken every single bone in his body. He closed his eyes and let sleep take over his problems.

* * *

The days went by surprisingly fast until Christmas Eve. They didn't talk to each other much in particular, except for completely ordinary things that had nothing to do with the person they both missed. No one would've noticed the tension lying underneath, it was hardly even visible at all. Both Al and Alfons had inwardly decided to drop the whole subject. It was a temporary, but satisfying solution.

They hadn't heard anything from Hughes about Dietrich since the night Al had met with the man. Alfons figured that might as well be alright as well, as long as he didn't show up again. So far it didn't look like he would bother them anymore.

"We should get Gracia a Christmas present," Al said on their way to the grocery store in the early afternoon of Christmas Eve. The city was brightened up with Christmas decorations and lights on the trees along the streets. It seemed to get everyone, even Al, in a better mood.

"You're right about that," Alfons replied with a small smile. "What do you think she'd like?"

"I think she'll like anything, but maybe we should avoid buying flowers," Al pointed out.

Alfons chuckled. "Yeah, she's probably tired of them by now."

"How about a book or a set of china?" Al suggested.

"Those are good ideas."

They stopped by a couple of stores and in the end settled with a small set of Asian hand painted tea cups and tea pot.

The snow was still falling towards the evening from a sky lacking both moon and stars. Despite that, Maes Hughes' house smelled of a promising Christmas dinner and fir from the decorated Christmas tree. A small group of people were gathered around the table and chatted cheerfully as the turkey was served.

"I could see what you were knitting some minutes ago, Gracia, is there something you guys haven't told me?" Falman prodded with a smile.

"Well, I guess it's safe to say it by now," Gracia smiled back and looked at her fiancé. "Maes has been dying to give you the news since we found out a couple of days ago."

"I'm going to become a daddy!" Maes Hughes squealed like a teenager and could hardly sit still on his chair. "Can you believe that?"

"Congratulations," Alfons smiled.

"This is great news!" Falman said excitedly.

Al had brightened up a bit next to Alfons and was studying the faces of Gracia and Hughes of this other world. They looked just as happy as the couple he had once known in Amestris, a wonderful couple. "I wish you the best," he said.

"Thank you, Al," Gracia beamed. "It's still new to me, but we're both ready for this."

"I'm sure it will be a girl!" Hughes stated eagerly. "The most beautiful girl in the world, just like her mother."

"That is a little early to distinguish, dear," Gracia pointed out.

"I'm sure Hughes already has names figured out," Falman joked.

"I'm thinking either Alice or Elise," Hughes said.

Gracia looked a little sceptical. "My aunt is called Alice and she isn't very polite."

"How about Elysia?" Al threw out innocently.

"That's a beautiful name," Gracia acknowledged.

"Elysia, I love it! It's like she's already among us." Hughes stared begging at Gracia, like he was a little boy asking for candy.

"Well, we'll see when we know if it's a boy or girl," Gracia smiled.

Alfons cast a side-glance at Al's knowing smile, and he figured the Maes Hughes in the other world had had a daughter.

Later it was time to open presents and Gracia loved the tea set. Alfons handed a present to Al, knowing the younger hadn't expected him to and that Al likely hadn't gotten him anything. But that wasn't the point.

Al accepted the present hesitantly. "I didn't get you anything." Why would Heiderich even have bothered getting him anything, considering the tension between them lately?

"It's alright," Alfons said. "It's nothing big, but I've wanted to give you this anyway."

Al opened the wrapping paper and took out the book. He hadn't heard of the author, obviously enough, and stared curiously at the plain cover. It was simply a black cover with silver writing.

"_This Side of Paradise_, by F. Scott Fitzgerald," Al read curiously. "What kind of book is it?"

"It was one of Edward's favourite books," Alfons said. "He read his own copy until all the pages fell out."

Al stared at the book for a long moment, before his eyes lifted to him again. He couldn't help but feel a bit touched. Alfons had given him something that reminded him of Edward. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Alfons said with a soft smile.

"I have some homemade presents for you too," Gracia said brightly. "Though it's not very much since the time was a bit short."

"You didn't have to get us anything," Alfons said humbly.

Gracia handed them each a present wrapped in red and white wrapping paper. They opened it at the same time, finding each a long scarf. Alfons' was blue and Al's was green.

"Thank you, Miss Gracia," Al said happily. He hadn't expected to get any presents at all, yet he had gotten two and some chocolate from Falman.

Gracia beamed. "I'm glad you like it." She gave Alfons a mild look and picked up a third present. "I knitted one in red for Edward. Will you give it to him for me when he comes back?" She handed the present to Alfons.

Alfons' hand lifted hesitantly, his chest immediately starting to knot itself. _When_ Edward came back? Why didn't anyone say _if?_ If Alfons got his hopes up in the sky the way everyone else had, wouldn't he be a hundred times more devastated if Edward never turned up? Or would he be living happier with more faith? He felt Al's sharp eyes from the side, and then nodded, accepting the gift. "I will," he replied a little flatly.

"Great," Gracia said. "I hope he'll like it too."

Alfons smiled a little forcibly. "I'm sure he will."

"I think he'll find a way," Falman said. "He's welcome to join the team once again too, whatever the case may be."

Al cast a glance at Alfons, noticing that he had drifted off for a bit and turned to Hughes. "I read something in the newspaper the other day, about what happened the same night we visited you. There was some kind of weird explosion?"

Hughes nodded. "Yeah, we don't know what caused it yet. Several people died, but we're still working on the investigation." He sent Al a slightly chary look. "Why? You don't think it could have a connection to the man who was after you, do you?"

Al shook his head. "No, I don't see how that can relate." He rather wondered if it was connected to the full moon...

"Now let's keep that serious talk away from the table on Christmas," Gracia interfered. "Who wants some Christmas cookies?"

After positive response from the men, she rose and went to the kitchen. Alfons sat on the floor still with the present in his hands and he had forgotten for a moment where he was while picturing Edward opening the present, smiling through a snort and swirling the red scarf around his neck.

"_She didn't have to make me something, but tell her thanks."_

"Alfons," Al said.

Alfons shook his head back to reality and stared at Al.

Al frowned, knowing that he spaced out for some seconds, but didn't mention it. "Can I talk to you outside?"

Alfons gave him a nod and they both rose. "We'll be right back," he addressed Hughes and Falman.

Outside it was dark and the air was frosty, but the clouds were drifting and the stars were finally starting to visualize their shimmers in the night.

They were standing outside on the porch wearing their news scarves and with their coats unbuttoned, given a great view over the neighbourhood and the pitch black sky. It reminded Alfons of the house they had owned in the other world, and how much he missed it. He cast Al a small glance, wondering what he wanted to talk to him about.

"Even if he's not here right now," Al started softly, "you still love him, right?"

Alfons turned to him in light surprise, though his eyes expressed the truthfulness akin to a child's. "With all my heart."

"I'll give you a Christmas present too," Al said.

Alfons stared puzzled at him. "You don't have to—"

"It'll be a bit belated, but... I'm going to bring my brother back to you," Al stated, turning to him with cheeks slightly flushed. "No matter what you say, I'm going to do it. If you don't like that present, you're not worthy of being together with him and besides, I think we got along much better when he was there."

Alfons was silent for a long time, a light form of shock written in his eyes. "Alphonse..." He was right about one thing... They had gotten along _way_ better when Edward had been there.

"I want us to get along," Al said. "But for that to work you can't act like you can control what I do, or my alchemy."

Alfons let his eyes drop and didn't want to even consider stopping Al with force if he should ever try. He wanted to respect the wishes of both Edward and Al, but that clearly wasn't possible.

"I know, I'm really sorry for that, Al. I actually think it's great that you can do alchemy in this world. It's just that..." He let the words hang loosely in the air. He didn't want to ruin his only chance to square up with Al.

"I know. You're only abiding by my brother's wishes. You don't have to say anything more," Al said lightly. "Thank you for the book, by the way. I'm looking forward to reading it."

Alfons smiled gently, accepting the resolute words. "Edward didn't like this world when he first came here. But once he read that book, something about him changed. I think it changed his point of view. Instead of thinking of the two worlds as heaven and hell, he started to look for the good things about this world rather than resenting it entirely. It wasn't a full acceptance, because he was always determined to get back home, but he managed to make his time here worth it. He started to think of the whole universe as one, not two separate worlds. This world is just another side of paradise, just like Amestris was to us. Even if there are difficult times, there is always a place on earth where someone is happy. I guess that's a journey every living being is set out to do, and we're still searching for it."

Al was silent for a moment, letting the words sink. "That is true. My brother and I never stopped searching, even before. Only that some people vow their whole life to it, but they never find it. I think my brother gave up on his real journey to happiness when he stayed behind inside the Gate. He accepted his curse and left it at that. But the only reason I'm here is to not let him do that."

Alfons smiled. There was another long silence between them, as the each other's words echoed in their minds. Was he an idiot for not believing that Edward could be cured of that curse? Yes. But his rationality had always weighed more towards pessimism, he couldn't really help it. What if Edward was beyond the possibility of retrieval? What if Edward was simply dead? The dead could never return, not even with alchemy. Alfons knew that the brothers had tried, and it had failed tragically.

The call was Edward's. He trusted him. He would come back if he could, and if he couldn't... then that was the end.

* * *

Back inside, Gracia served Christmas cookies and Hughes and Falman told stupid jokes and discussed some plans for their big wedding.

Eventually it got late and Falman decided it was time to take off. "Do you boys want a ride home?" he offered.

"That would be nice," Alfons said.

"This has been a blast," Hughes said wholeheartedly and hugged around his fiancé's shoulders. "Why don't you all come over for dinner tomorrow too?"

"That sounds really great," Falman chuckled. "I could never say no to Gracia's cooking. I'll pick the boys up then too."

"Splendid!"

"Thanks for everything," Al said politely and bowed.

Gracia laughed and hugged him close as he straightened up again. "It's always a pleasure to have you here, Al. Come back tomorrow, okay?"

"Definitely," Al said with a smile.

After everyone had thanked for food and presents and said goodbye, the three of them climbed into Falman's automobile, and Falman drove them to their apartment above the flower shop.

"I'll be here sometime in the afternoon and pick you up," Falman said. "If you need anything, just tell me and I'll bring it tomorrow."

"We're fine, I think we have all we need," Alfons said. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Falman replied with a wave. "Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight," Al and Alfons said in unison and stepped out of the automobile with a small laugh.

"Have you read the book?" Al wanted to know as they locked themselves inside the front door to the hall next to the flower shop.

"Yes, I read it while I went to the University," Alfons replied. "Actually, I was the one who introduced the author to your brother."

"Why did my brother like this book so much?" Al asked.

"I think he could identify himself with the character's life in solitude," Alfons answered. "And his search for happiness. Maybe even in God, though Edward never really warmed up to that prospect."

"Do you believe in God?"

Alfons smiled. Al was always so curious, but he didn't mind. "I have to admit my views changed a little bit after I met Edward. I do not believe there isn't a God, but now I believe in another world and in what I've seen."

"I see," Al said.

They headed up the stairs to the right floor and Alfons unlocked the door. "I'll probably go straight to bed," he admitted. "I'm all worn out."

"I'll be reading for a bit," Al said as they stepped inside. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, goodnight," Alfons replied.

Al brought his book and the chocolate into his room and put it on the desk. Then he turned to turn on the light, and jumped immediately back in light shock as he saw someone lying in his _bed_. The person lied turned away, long blond hair sprawled out on the pillow. On top of the covers rested a metallic prosthetic limb.

Al used some seconds getting his jaw into function again. "B... Brother..." His heart slammed against his chest in record speed as he sprinted three steps toward the bed and kneeled on top of it. "BROTHER, BROTHER!" He shook the person and turned his face around. "I can't believe that you're back!" It was around that point he noticed the truth and gasped out. It was _not_ his brother lying in his bed.

Al jumped back again with a racing heart and his stomach doubled over like he was about to throw up.

At the same instant Alfons came hurriedly into his room. "Al, what is it? I heard—" He stopped dead.

_Edward...?_ No, that wasn't him. A human sized _doll_ was lying on Al's bed with one of Edward's prosthetic arms attached to it. It had a wig, long and blond like Edward's hair on its head. _What the fuck...?_

Slowly Alfons stepped closer to the doll and removed the covers hiding the body. The doll wore no clothes, but a metal leg was attached to it as well, probably been found in Alfons' bedroom. Instead of clothes, a message was written in red on the doll's chest. _In blood...?_

"_He is__ rotting away in the deepest depths of the Gate..."_

Alfons was trembling lightly as he managed to steer his eyes away from it and look back at Al. Alphonse looked like to be in the same state of shock as he was. His eyes had gone blank with unshed tears and he had backed as far as he could come into the bookshelf against the wall, his face pale white.

Al could hardly believe his own eyes. He was swallowing and swallowing, yet he felt like he would choke. His chest was knotting itself tightly, making breathing difficult.

"Al..." Alfons managed. "Who did this?"

"I don't know," Al whispered.

"Does the man called Dietrich know about Edward?" Alfons asked in a low voice.

"I think so. I guess," Al replied weakly.

"Is anything missing from your room?" Alfons asked again, a little tightly.

Al shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't know..." He couldn't take his eyes away from the bed, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I have to call Hughes," Alfons muttered. "This is..."

"I thought it was my brother," Al whispered. "I thought he had come back. That everything would be okay. I thought he was just sleeping..." The tears broke loose from his eyes and he huddled together, only supported by the shelf.

He had believed that Edward had returned and waited for them both to show up, so they could all be together and journey together again. For just some seconds he had thought about all that, and even faster it had all been ripped away. "But it wasn't him..." he rambled on. "It isn't my brother!"

Alfons stared at him and advanced slowly. "Al..."

Al stepped a little away from the shelf and swayed slightly. "I thought he was asleep." He had looked so _real_, but only because he had wanted him to be.

Before he knew it, he felt someone hug him tightly into his chest, and Al found himself simply standing there with wide eyes and arms lax at his sides.

Alfons closed his eyes and held Al close to him, stroked his back a little, his cheek pressing at the top of Al's bronze head. "It's okay," he whispered. "Everything will be okay." He cursed his own lack of ability to express any real soothing comfort to Al at this point, but to his defence he was pretty shaken up himself. He too had managed to think that one little optimistic thought before noticing what was wrong. Edward had almost been home... For just one second. And it had crushed them both.

Now, as he had gotten over the first traces of disappointment, anger was starting to evolve. Alfons felt furious. More furious than he could even make out. His fists tightened on Al's back and his shoulders trembled a little.

"Who the hell is this man?" he muttered. "He has to get caught, or I'll kill him."

Al lifted his head to stare up at him, fresh tears in his eyes. "He wants me to feel bad so I'll agree with helping him..."

"Well, that he can just forget about right now," Alfons stated. "I'm going to make sure he'll never bother you ever again."

Al wiped off his eyes as Alfons let his arms drop from him. "What are you going to do about it?" Al asked. "He knows exactly where we are."

"For now," Alfons said. "First we'll get rid of this thing off your bed, and then I'll call Hughes first thing in the morning."

"What if he comes back?" Al said shakily.

"I'll block the door with something," Alfons said. "You'll be safe."

Al doubted he would be able to sleep at all that night, but he guessed there was nothing more to be done tonight.

* * *

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Alfons waited until morning with calling Hughes. It would've ruined Christmas Eve entirely for Hughes and Gracia, and that wasn't really fair to them. Before he had gone to bed that night he went through the entire house with a bat as a weapon, checking all closets and doors in the small apartment to make sure the visitor wasn't still there. Then he had hammered a plank in across the crack of the door and the wall to make sure no one could sneak in while they were asleep. Obviously just locking the door hadn't been of any use.

Al was still in his bedroom when Alfons picked up the phone and dialled the number the following morning. It was just nine o'clock, but still late enough for an emergency call.

"Hello!" Hughes answered in the other end, sounding strangely stressed already.

"Hughes? It's Alfons," Alfons said.

"Oh, Alfons, I'm sorry but I can't talk right now. I'm just on my way out. Apparently something has happened..."

"What?" Alfons said. Had anything more happened? "What is it?"

"I just got a call from the station. Someone called in and said they had found a body... Hopefully the information is wrong. I can't tell you much, I don't know for sure yet—"

"Who?" Alfons interrupted fast, almost demanding. "Who is it?" He had a terrible feeling that he knew the person. The long silence he received only made him more frightened. "Hughes?"

"Vato..." Hughes answered perturbed. "I think it's Vato Falman."


	6. Ferocity

**Hey all! **Thank you for your patience. As you probably know, there's a wild discussion going on about a certain RedButton here on the site, and my stories might be in the danger zone since some parts can be considered MA-rated. I don't want them to be taken down, so if they get reported, I will tone down on the probable violation of ToS.

I'm giving you all permission to save my stories on your computer so you can keep them the way they are.

Enjoy the next chapter! :)

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: FEROCITY**

Alfons could hardly keep track of his own actions the next couple minutes after the phone call with Officer Hughes. Suddenly he had written Al an uninformative note that he'd be back shortly, and stormed out of the apartment. The streets were as good as deserted this day, especially this early. Every store was closed, and everyone was resting after the big and joyful day of Christmas Eve.

Alfons was sprinting as fast as his legs allowed him to, sending grains of snow spattering up in the air for each running step. The only thought in his mind was to get to Vato Falman's house as soon as humanly possible. He couldn't be dead. But Hughes' words... How had this happened? _Why?_ First the horrifying doll on Al's bed, and now _this?_ He just refused to believe it.

His breath came out short and shallow as he reached the right street. Even from a distance he saw the obvious police activity outside Falman's place and the bad feeling in his stomach increased to an almost breaking point. He swallowed to beat down the mounting nauseous feeling growing in his chest, and couldn't get there soon enough. On the other hand he was scared to hell of what he would find. Still he had to be sure. He refused to think the worst before it was confirmed.

He ran straight into the front yard and was immediately stopped by two police officers.

"Stop right there, kid," one of them said, letting a huge hand push Alfons hard in the chest to stop him from getting any further. "You're not allowed to be here."

"I know Vato Falman," Alfons said desperately. "Please, let me through. Where is Officer Maes Hughes?"

"Are you a member of the family?" the other one asked sceptically.

"No, but I'm the closest family he got," Alfons replied crossly. "What happened?" Tears were starting to press out behind his eyes. Was Falman really dead? He tried to ignore the officers and push passed them, but they strictly held him back.

"We can't tell you anything," the first officer went on in a sharp tone. "Sorry, kid."

Then Alfons suddenly got an eye on Maes Hughes coming out of the front door of the house, his face looking grim.

"Hughes!" Alfons called and struggled to free his arms from the police officers, despite knowing they wouldn't let him pass.

However, Hughes noticed him and stepped over quickly. "It's alright. Let me take care of him."

The other two nodded and backed off.

"Is he dead?" Alfons blurted, grasping the Officer's arm. "It's... it's just a mistake, right?" He still had a faint hope, but the look he received told him otherwise. He had never seen Hughes' eyes this serious before.

"He was already dead when they found him," the Officer admitted gravely. "I'm so sorry, Alfons. There was nothing anyone could've done."

_No, this couldn't be happening._ His friend, his co-worker, his substitute father... _Dead_. "Why?" Alfons whispered, slowly letting go of the man's arm and feeling his knees wanting to let him collapse in the snow. "How did this happen?"

"Someone murdered him," Hughes said. "He was shot four times in the chest."

Alfons' heart stopped for some seconds, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. He was even surprised by himself how badly he was taking the news. He felt like he was reacting to this more strongly than when Edward disappeared, but that couldn't be possible. Still, Falman had been like a father to him and he had been a close friend of his old man too. Alfons had known him since he was a just a toddler.

Warm tears were trickling down his cheeks and he found himself staring aimlessly at a spot down in the snow. Choked sounds escaped the tightness of his throat. He sobbed. He fucking sobbed.

Hughes hand squeezed his shoulder lightly and his voice spoke softly. "I'm very sorry about this, Alfons. It was definitely not this I had expected after spending such lovely Christmas with him... He was my best friend."

Alfons nodded slowly. "Hughes... I don't think this is a coincidence."

"What do you mean?" Hughes asked concerned.

"There's something I have to tell you." Alfons took a deep, shaky breath. "The reason I called you this morning... Last night, we found a bloodied doll looking like Edward in Al's bed."

Hughes' eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

Alfons could hardly even speak anymore. "I'm sure it's him... What if Falman was killed by the same man who was after Alphonse? What should I do? I don't know what I should do..." He lifted his palms and pressed them against his temple. "What if Falman was killed because of...?"

"No," Hughes said strictly, and firmly grasped his shoulders. "You're not going to feel guilty about this. This is neither your or Al's fault. The important thing is that you tell me everything you know so we can catch the culprit."

Alfons nodded shakily. "I... I should've called you right away. But I didn't want to disturb your Christmas."

"There's nothing we can do about that now," Hughes said. "I know your intentions were purely good at heart, but don't let this get any more dangerous for you than it already is. The culprit could've been close to you when you got home last night."

Alfons took a deep, nervous breath. Even if he had checked everywhere and barricaded the door, it had still been reckless not to tell the police what had happened. He could've put Al in danger... How could he have been so stupid?

"I will get to the bottom of this," Hughes said determinedly. "Do you still have the doll?"

Alfons nodded.

"Good. I'll send someone with you to get it, it'll be important evidence. Meanwhile, you should stay put and look after Al." His voice softened. "He needs you, you know. Seeing you two together yesterday, it was like you were his older brother."

"But I'm not..." Alfons whispered.

Hughes sighed. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you this. Did this man called Dietrich know about your relations with Falman?"

Alfons nodded. "I'm afraid so. He was here the night we arrived in..." He was about to say _this world_, but changed his mind in the last moment. "... Munich."

Hughes looked slightly disturbed by this. "Either way, promise me neither you or Al will blame yourselves for what happened," he repeated.

Alfons just nodded, even if there was no way this wasn't his fault.

"But it seems it might be dangerous for you to be staying in Munich much longer," Hughes elaborated quietly. "If he came into your apartment, who knows what he'd do next." His palm slapped his own forehead. "Not even Gracia will be safe at her flower shop until he's caught."

Alfons furrowed his eyebrows in realization and his anxiety grew even further. "What are you saying, not safe here? Should we leave? Where would we go? There's nowhere to go..."

Hughes sighed and let his hand drop. "For your own and Al's safety, you should consider it, Alfons. But for now, you should go home. I will ask one of the officers to drive you and pick up the essential evidence."

Alfons was too shocked to even respond. Should he just take Al and leave Munich? Where would they go? What would Al say to it?

Maybe they wouldn't have a choice? If Dietrich was after the lives of people they knew, or anyone else for that matter, they would only put more lives in danger by staying. They might have no other choice but to leave to keep distance from people they cared about. Before anyone else was murdered... Or what if Dietrich had pended in Al next? Alfons felt suddenly sick and wanted to go back home as quickly as possible.

* * *

A while later the doll had been removed from the floor in their hallway, and Alfons was sitting on the side of Al's bed. Al had his back pressed against the wall with a round piece of chalk clutched in his trembling hands, his eyes dreadfully red and baggy like he hadn't even slept for a minute that night.

Alfons curved forward, resting his head in his palms. "He was murdered."

Al's lips were shaking. "W-Why was he murdered? W-who...?" But Alfons knew he already thought the same thing he had. When Alfons didn't reply right away, Al's eyes went blank. "Is this my fault?"

"No," Alfons said.

"Is it because I didn't agree with Dietrich's terms?"

"No!" Alfons repeated, his voice sharper and increasing in volume. "That man has proved to be insane after what he did last night. It's not your fault, this is completely out of our hands. I'm scared as hell! God only knows what he'll do next."

Al stared horrified at him by the end of his speech, and Alfons was already regretting his words. He wasn't really making anything better for Al.

"Will the police find him?" Al asked. "What if we set him up to meet with me again, and then surprise him with the police? Then he'd be caught faster."

"No way!" Alfons cut him off. "Are you crazy? I'm not letting you put yourself into any more danger. You're not alone, remember? I'm going to figure out something."

Al looked away again. "It's not your job to look out for me. You didn't even ask for it, right?" There was something familiar and evasive in Al's tone which made Alfons think about the first night they had been back in Munich. But he knew Al was as upset as he was and only had a different way of showing it. He chose not to say anything more, and instead he stood up and left the room.

It was like if his last bit of family, his _past_, had gone six feet under. Falman had meant a lot to him. He had also been the leader of the current rocket project. Without him, continuing the project would be akin to pointless. Alfons didn't know if he would be able to do it. Perhaps he would have to find a new job.

Besides, Alfons knew Maes Hughes had a good point. Dietrich had been in Al's bedroom and left that horrible note. It had really gotten to Al, Alfons could see it in his eyes. Usually it would take a lot to weaken Al's determination, and now Al wasn't even safe in this apartment anymore. There was also one other thing that bugged Alfons, and that was the fact that Al had went to meet up with Dietrich on his own, and what if he, in spite of everything, decided to do that again? What if Al decided that succumbing to the enemy was the right choice to make?

Alfons didn't trust Al. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't hide it from himself. And the truth was, if Al disappeared, Alfons would be all alone. Al was his only remaining connection to sanity and he ought to hold onto him, no matter what.

Therefore, his decision was set. They had to move. He even knew where to go now. He remembered a conversation he had had with Falman a year back, after he'd come back from university, and decided to tell Hughes about it first to hear his opinion.

By the next day, Alfons made sure Al was out of range of hearing and called the Officer. The moment he he dialled the number until Hughes picked up seemed to take forever.

"Officer Hughes," he finally replied in the other end.

"Sir, it's Alfons," Alfons said, fidgeting.

"Hey, are you alright? Did anything else happen?"

"No," Alfons answered, looking behind himself to be sure Al wasn't eavesdropping on him. He lowered his voice. "I've thought about what you said, and I think you're right. We should probably move."

"Yes, I know it's kind of a hard decision," Hughes said with concern. "Concerning the fact that you won't be here if Edward comes back."

Alfons' jaw went slack. Edward... He hadn't even thought about that. Was it really alright to leave? His brows furrowed in confusion. They had to. They had already been back for two weeks and Edward hadn't returned. If he had been able to come back, he would've by now. There was really no way Edward would come back... No matter how much he wanted him to.

"Edward is gone," Alfons said monotonously. "We have to live on."

"That is true," Hughes said slowly. "So, do you know where you will go?"

"Yes," Alfons said. "We'll go to America."

"_I know your father would've been proud of you if he knew how far you've come so early in your life." The older man smiled kindly and clapped the younger blond on the back as he stood up from having worked underneath the latest rocket model._

"_Thank you, sir," Alfons said with a bright smile. "But I wouldn't have gotten here without you."_

"_Yes, you would," Falman chuckled. "It's in your blood."_

"_But Falman is the master," Edward simpered, sitting laid-back on the work table with a sketch and a pencil, and Alfons could hardly ever take his eyes off him whenever he was "working."_

"_I wouldn't say that," Falman said humbly. "Even I still have a lot to learn in this field. But that's what I like about rocketry. It's always developing."_

"_Who is the master of the master?" Edward wanted to know._

_Falman laughed. "My friend's father. He was American."_

"_Was?" Alfons said._

"_Yes, was," Falman said. "He died of lung cancer. The job affected his health too much, and he had to give in to the illness a couple of years back. But his son is still a good friend of mine who also develops rocketry while living in Boston. We continued our work to honour his memory."_

"_Wow, Boston?" Edward echoed. "It's kind of amazing that you had an American tutor, considering the tension between Germany and the States, right?"_

_Alfons felt a little uncomfortable hearing that, but Edward had a good point. He just hoped he didn't offend Falman by simpering it all out like that._

"_The war was awful, yes," Falman said. "But we didn't let the politics come in between us. We wanted to show the world that cooperation between the countries is possible, even in our field. Remember this, both of you. In more than one way, our field is very dangerous."_

_Edward and Alfons exchanged a look, and then nodded._

"_I'd like to save up for a trip to America and visit your friend sometime," Edward said. "Wouldn't you, Alfons?"_

"_Yeah, that would be great," Alfons said excited. "Maybe American technology is turning out different from ours. It would be interesting to see the development from another point of view."_

_Falman smiled. "My old friend's name is Neil Oscar Cotton. He'd probably be delighted to get some fresh visitors from the rocket industry as well."_

The trip had never happened, but that didn't mean that it still couldn't be done one year later, Alfons thought. It had to be some sort of calling. They could find Vato Falman's friend, and it was Edward who had first suggested it, even. His two dearest people... It was like they were leading him, helping him, even when being gone.

"The states?" Hughes repeated. "That's far..."

"I know it's far away," Alfons said. "But I don't have any other places to go. Could you please help me in getting a passport made for Al?"

"Of course. Bring him to the station tomorrow and I'll work something out. But are you really sure about this? What will Al say to the idea?"

"I'm sure about this, but I don't know what he'll say," Alfons admitted. He hadn't even started to imagine it yet. "He'll probably understand after a little convincing. But just in case, don't tell him it's a passport... please."

Hughes hesitated. "Are you sure you're making the right choice here, Alfons? For Al?"

"_Yes,_ yes I'm sure," Alfons said intently. How many times was he going to ask, damn it? "He is from another world, however insane it may sound, and now he's being chased. He doesn't know what's best for him, and I want to avoid another confrontation between him and that murderer."

"Calm down," Hughes butted in. "I know, I know. But, you should tell him as soon as possible."

"Yes," Alfons said. "I know... Goodbye, Hughes."

"Goodbye."

Alfons headed to Al's bedroom and knocked gently on the door. This was going to be a difficult conversation, unless he let out a few parts for now. He figured it would be better to take things a little slow, and rather tell Al the details when everything was set.

"Come in," Al's voice called from behind the door.

"Hey," Alfons said as he stepped inside. "There's something I have to tell you."

Al looked up from _This Side of Paradise_. He had reached one of the last pages of the book. "What is it?"

Alfons sat down on the bed side with a small sigh. "You know, a lot has happened recently. I don't think we should be living in this apartment for much longer."

Al scowled thoughtfully. "But won't the police find Dietrich soon? It will be fine once they catch him, right?"

"Well, so far he seems to be hiding quite well, is fully capable of murder and getting into people's houses in the middle of the night," Alfons surmised. "We should move."

Al was silent for a while. "I like it here though."

Alfons was surprised to hear that and not sure if he really believed it. "You do?"

"I don't know. This used to be my brother's room." Al looked away. "I'd prefer to stay here, I guess. But still, I understand... Dietrich knows where we are, and he might come back. I don't want any more people getting hurt. But even if we move, what if he acts again?"

"We'll have to count on that he won't," Alfons muttered, suspecting that there were more reasons to why Al didn't want to move as well. But he seemed to be accepting it at least.

"Then, where are we moving to?"

"I'm not sure yet," Alfons half lied. "I have to make some arrangements, but I will tell you as soon as I know the details, okay?"

Al nodded. "Okay."

"We have to stop by the station tomorrow for some formal things," Alfons said vaguely and rose from the bed. "Try to get some sleep tonight."

"Yeah..." Al replied wearyingly. "I'll try."

As the elder left the room, Al's eyes fell on the piece of chalk lying on his nightstand. For some reason he had brought it with him from his world, like a memorial of a transmutation he had shared with his brother. He still remembered that moment clearly, because Alfons Heiderich hadn't been present in this certain memory. They had been captured by Thule Society and tied up to a pillar. Then he and Edward had transmuted the bonds into chalk to break free.

"Brother..." Al whispered. "One day not too long from now, I will draw an array with that piece of chalk and bring you back." _Break you free._

Inside his heart, Edward closed his eyes and snorted with mirth. _"Cheer up, little brother. Don't worry about me."_

_

* * *

_

Next morning it was Thursday. Alfons was reluctant to tell Al what they were going to the station for. Until he was sure they were actually going, he wouldn't want to upset Al with the idea. It was far. But it was safer. Still, he had to get tickets first. They were expensive, but they had plenty of money. Dollars, even. His intention was to order them as soon as Al's passport was ready. Hughes had promised him they could have it done same day, bending the normal circumstances a bit.

Usually it would take around two weeks for a passport to be ready, but they hadn't that much time. Within two weeks, that man could already have killed someone and taken Al away. Alfons would never let that happen. He remembered so well the time Thule Society stole Edward away from him, and he had looked everywhere, even in Romania to find a trail he could follow. In the end he had found out about Thule Society. He didn't doubt for a second that this Dietrich had a connection to them as well.

Al obediently went on with everything at the police station without seeming suspicious. He got a picture taken, and filled out a form with information, and Hughes had provided him with a German personal identification number. That way, no one would question where Al had come from. Al was reading some magazines in the waiting room when Hughes finally came back and Alfons stood up to meet him.

"Is it finished?" he asked in a low voice.

Hughes nodded and handed Alfons a brown envelope. "I'm bending the rules here, Alfons, you know that, right? But I don't want to put my fiancé in danger, and neither do I want you to get hurt."

Alfons nodded slowly. "I know. Don't worry about us, sir. We'll manage."

"Do you have money?" Hughes asked.

Alfons nodded, without revealing the details. "I will get a job when we get there. Everything will work out." The main problem he had to figure out first, was _how_ they were going to get there. It was a long way to travel, after all.

"This doesn't have to be permanent," Hughes said. "I hope you'll come back soon. It's here where you belong."

Alfons eyes lowered. "No... I don't." _I don't belong anywhere Edward can't be found._ He put the envelope inside his jacket and forced himself to lift his gaze again. "Thank you for everything, sir."

Hughes nodded. "Anytime, Alfons. Be safe."

Alfons turned away and waved Al to follow him. Al rose slowly from his seat and bowed fast at Hughes before leaving after the elder. Maes Hughes watched after them as they disappeared and let out a quiet sigh.

"What was all this for?" Al asked curiously while trying to keep up with Alfons Heiderich's long strides.

"Everyone needs identity papers," Alfons said vaguely. "Or it would raise questions, for instance at the school you'll be attending."

"Have you found a school yet?" Al wanted to know.

"No, not yet," Alfons said. _There's no point yet._ "First we should find a new place to live. Besides, it's still holidays anyway."

"That's true," Al admitted.

Planning out the route for the trip was something Alfons had longed to get over with since he decided where they would be going. When they got home, Alfons started making dinner and secretly waited for Al to pull back into his room to read like he usually did.

"Do you need help?" Al offered, showing up in the kitchen frame as Alfons made the white sausages ready to be fried in the pan.

"No, it's fine," Alfons declined kindly. "I'll let you know when it's ready."

"Okay." Al lingered in the door frame, looking a bit guarded. He felt that Alfons was hiding something from him, Alfons could tell. But Alfons pretended he didn't notice it. After a minute of silence, Al decided to leave the matter be and turned to his room without another word.

As soon as the door had closed, Alfons shut off the heat on counter and stepped silently to the phone in the living room. He brought the phone into his bedroom, knowing that Al would sit down to read and not come out for a while.

He settled down on the bed with the phone, plugged it in next to his bed and found the brochures of information he had gathered and the map over the world he had shown to Al some days ago. He had managed to find plans over possible flights, boats and train routes from the police station. Flying was the most expensive alternative, but he had money for it and it wouldn't take as much time as travelling by boat across the Atlantic. The boat went from Bordeaux in France, and would take about a week. The flights went from Amsterdam, Prague and Paris. On either alternative there was no guarantee that there would be anything available for months. In contradiction to the boat that could take many passengers at the time, the airplane would only be fit for fourteen people at the most.

First he calculated the quickest route. If they took the train to Prague in Czechoslovakia, and the flight from there to Boston, the trip in all would take about three days. The flight would land in Lyon in France on the way before crossing the Atlantic. That was absolutely the most effective way. Otherwise, they could take the train south-eastwards to France, change trains in Marseille to Bordeaux, and then take the boat to Boston from there. That would take them about one week and three days.

Alfons spent the next couple of minutes, calling the phone numbers on the brochures. He called the flight company in Prague first, spoke in a low voice without seeming too suspicious, and became aware that there were a few seats available on a flight leaving early Saturday morning. That was the day after tomorrow, unless he wanted to wait another three weeks. The passenger flights for the states did only leave occasionally. The reason why there were some available seats was because someone just had cancelled them.

"Saturday morning then," Alfons said. "Two tickets." Now he only needed to find a train that fit to that time. Another call, this time to the train station in Munich, secured him two tickets on the train to Prague already the next morning. That would give them enough time to reach the flight on time. If everything went according to plan, they would arrive at Boston on Sunday night.

Alfons put the phone down again with a deep breath. It was soon, but he couldn't wait another three weeks. It might be too late and Dietrich could already have hurt Al or taken him away. But he had expected that he would still have a couple of days on him to bring Al the news. Now he didn't have such good time anymore, and he decided to bring it up after dinner.

He went to knock on Al's door, but didn't wait for him to open. "I'm going out for a bit, it won't take long," he said.

Al opened the door. "Where are you going?"

"The bank," Alfons said. They would need dollars from now on, and this was the only time he had to go and get it before they left. "See you soon."

"Okay," Al said puzzled and watched after him as he put his coat on and left.

* * *

An hour later he came back and hid the money in his room. After dwelling over it, he had also brought the notebook and the gun. He didn't even know why, but he ought to keep them secret from Alphonse. He had only taken half of the money as well, without knowing why. Though, it would seem suspicious to have too many dollars in case they were stopped in the customs.

Now he had time to jump into the situation of telling Alphonse the truth of where they were moving and when. And he had to admit to himself, this was kind of sudden. He didn't know how Al would react.

He continued making dinner and called for Al as it was finished. Al noticed the tension oozing from him as they ate and in the end, he couldn't stand it anymore. "What's going on?" he asked. "You've behaved weird all day."

Was he that transparent? Alfons took a deep breath. "Al, there's something I have to tell you. I've decided where we're going to move."

"Really?" Al said surprised. "Have you seen the house yet?"

"No, I just know the place," Alfons admitted.

"Then, where is it?"

Alfons took a deep breath. "In the US. I just ordered two tickets to the states."

"The states...? In _America?_" Al's jaw went slack. "What for?"

Alfons explained quietly. They had to move somewhere safe. He knew of someone there. It would work out, they would find a place to stay when they got there. It was the best choice, and it would be far enough away from any dangerous people who might know about alchemy and the Gate. It even was one of the closest places to Amestris in this world, at least in Edward's books.

There was a long silence, and Al had neglected his food long ago. The explosion came as a storm after the silence, and Alfons' heart slammed a bit wiry as Al abruptly shot up from his chair.

"No! You can't be serious about this! We can't just _leave!_" Al yelled. "We... We can't just leave _the country_! When you said we were moving, I didn't think you meant_ moving away from Munich_!"

Alfons didn't look at him. He knew what Al was thinking. That they had to stay close to the only place on Earth Edward might return to. But still... Even if he wanted it to be, it wasn't the wisest choice to make.

He rose from the table as well and stepped hesitantly towards the other. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I guess I was vague on purpose," he admitted. He had known deep down that Al would react like this. "But we have no other choice. Besides, it's been one month, Al… You know he won't get back, after all this time." It hurt so much to say it, but it had to be said eventually. "The Gate is gone, and so is Edward."

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" Al shouted and punched him in the chest. "Don't tell me you've totally given up on him!" Some part of him didn't want to believe it. Some part of him still wanted to believe that Alfons Heiderich believed in him, and still believed in Edward, and that he would come back. Or had he completely given up and stopped caring for real?

"Al..." Alfons' heart felt like it was being stabbed by a bouquet of spikes. But Edward wasn't coming back this time. The Gate was really gone, so how could he? He didn't want to think that he was gone, but Edward would've wanted them to live on. Continue their lives. Rationally thinking, they couldn't just set their lives on pause when there was no guarantee that Edward would ever return.

"He's not coming back," Alfons said in a low voice. "Edward is gone."

Alphonse's eyes doubled in size and Alfons had never seen such hurt eyes before. "I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU LOVED HIM!" Al screamed. "AND YOU'RE JUST GIVING HIM UP LIKE HE'S DEAD!"

"He'd want us to _live_, Alphonse," Alfons said harshly and grabbed Al's punching left fist that had come flying towards his chest once again. _That's what I told him to do too once, and I meant it._ "At least he'd want you to have a life to come home to, no matter what world. There's nothing else we can do. Don't tell me that you've forgotten about all that has happened already? That Falman was _murdered?_ Sooner or later _that man_ will hunt you down until he gets a hold of what he wants. I don't know if he's from Thule Society or not, but if we stay here he'll definitely find us."

All the things that had happened after he returned to his own world with only Al with him, hadn't just been mere coincidences. They knew something about them and alchemy. And Alfons did not intend to get either Al or himself involved with them. They were capable of _killing…_

"This isn't my home!" Al yelled. "I HATE THIS WORLD!" The anger was chasing around inside his body, and it felt like it was scraping him from within. The thought of leaving was absolutely _ludicrous!_ He didn't even want to be here. What right had this person to decide where he was to go?

"You do, don't you?" Alfons mumbled. The fierceness of the words struck his deep in his soul and he had to struggle to not turn away for a moment. He couldn't stand doing this to Al, but what else could he do?

Al sniffled, no longer able to hold back the tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. "We can't leave," he whinged. "We can't go to America. It's too far. What if Brother manages to come here? He'll never even find us, and we'll never know that he's back."

"Listen to me!" Alfons jerked the smaller boy closer, keeping a strong hold around his arm. "If we don't leave, that man will probably find us and make you do alchemic experiments for him or something, and he'll kill you if you refuse. I'm already through with all that! I've seen both Edward and yourself suffer in the hands of people like that before, I won't risk that happening again."

Al continued trying to punch him, but his effort was starting to become more or less half-hearted. "You don't understand," he chromed. "Nothing like that has ever stopped my brother or me from continuing towards our goal in the past, and not even _you_ will come in the way of that!"

"Alphonse, you're not even thinking clearly right now," Alfons returned sharply. "We can't stay here either! Besides, I have already booked the flight. We're leaving in the morning." He didn't want to cancel it, he couldn't! Then they would end up not going at all, and the consequences of staying could be even more fatal.

"What?" Alphonse looked even more shocked. "In the morning?" He glowered at Alfons like he had betrayed him. "And you tell me that _now?_ It's too soon, I don't want to go!"

"We're going!" Alfons stated, hardly even realizing the grip tightening around Al's arm. Why couldn't he just _understand?_

"In that case,_go ahead_! Just GO!" Al cried out and pulled his arm back, stepping backwards to gain distance from him. "You can go without me. You'll probably be happy to get rid of me anyway! I refuse to come with you. I'll stay right here!"

Alfons gritted his teeth. "No, you're not." What made Al believe he would be happy to leave without him? He couldn't go anywhere without Al. But they had to go, so Al would have to suck it up and come with him. "This is ridiculous," Alfons groaned. "I've already decided, it's for the best."

Al angrily swept the air in front of him with one hand. "You can't decide for me! You can't _make_ me. You're _not_ my brother!"

"No," Alfons admitted. "I'm not your brother. I hardly even know you anymore. But I swore to him to take care of you and to protect you."

"You can't protect me!" Al grated. "I don't need you. I can take care of myse-!"

"You can't do alchemy anymore, that's not the way this world works," Alfons cut him off. "I fucking swore to him… They were the last words he said to me, so I'll make damn sure to live up to them."

Al stilled, and just stared widely at him.

"That's why, I'll make you go whether you like it or not," Alfons said threateningly. "And if you try to run away from me, I'll hunt you down before _that insane murderer_ does."

Al swallowed hard and turned away from him to dry his eyes on his sleeve. "I can't believe that you're just forgetting about my brother."

Alfons froze. _Forgetting...? About Edward?_ How was he forgetting him? Wasn't he just living up to his last wish? Of course he was! Edward's words meant everything to him.

Al went on. "Besides, you're wrong about the alchemy in this world, and you know it! I _can_ use it and I _can_ bring him back! Why don't you believe in me? You don't even believe in my brother!"

"Al, please—"

"You can't _forbid_ me to use alchemy when I can!" Al stood there panting when he had finished the sentence, his face still flushed with anger.

There it was. The magical, forbidden topic they had developed which had haunted Alfons' mind ever since that night Al had melted snow without fire. And it was that statement that made his blood boil.

"This is _my_ world!" Alfons bawled, starting to lose control as well. He had never felt this furious, at least not for a very long time. It was almost a minute where he stopped and started thinking about what he was saying, but it was too late. His blood was scorching and he couldn't stop it. "Each world has its own rules. Alchemy isn't a science here, it's just magic, rubbish! And it's dangerous. There's absolutely no way of getting him back even if you tried! Edward is gone! He won't come back, it's just you and me. Therefore, I _do_ forbid you to use it ever again, or so help me!"

"The Gate existed in this world before and it can be opened again!" Al insisted loudly. "Then I can bring my brother ba—"

"Edward is _dead!_" Alfons cut him off, tears suddenly flowing down his own eyes. He hadn't even noticed that they had started pressing forward. It all made sense, didn't it? It took too long, far too long. If Edward had been able to come back, he would've been back by now. "Edward died inside the Gate." He took some deep breaths. "Please, be realistic. He's never coming back, he isn't just gone. He's dead."

Al stood trembling slightly in front of him, his fists clenched at his sides, seeming not able to actually believe the words he had just heard. "You really believe that?"

Alfons looked away and Al stared appalled at him and shook his head in disbelief. He had always thought Alfons at least believed that Edward was still _alive_. Now he lacked faith in even that. Al couldn't take it anymore. Bronze eyes kept showering his cheeks with quiet tears. "I hate you," he whispered. "You have no idea... If we just could've waited a little bit longer…"

Alfons pretended he didn't hear it, but inside his heart, Edward's smile had dimmed. Golden eyes peered at the scenes that had just occurred inside his mind with a concerned scowl, and Alfons wanted to tell him to either yell at him or go away. He wasn't real anymore! He never was. Edward felt just like a dream.

"Pack your things," he instructed to Al. "Our train for the airport leaves at 8:00 am and that's final."

The discussion was over. Al and Alfons stomped in each direction to each of their bedrooms, and Alfons heard the door to Edward's old room slam so hard that the walls in the apartment shuddered in terror. He sighed inwardly as he started to cool down. That conversation probably couldn't have gone any worse.

* * *

The ugly argument with Al had given a bad aftertaste in his mouth, and that night he was being punished in his dreams. The white space felt heavy and pressing at him this time, and the odd humming sound of strong energy felt almost deafening. It was so lonely and just a minute felt like forever. Whenever he tried to move or run away, something invisible was holding his body back and a sense of agony prickled at his neck like something or someone was clawing him there.

Then his vision was suddenly covered by an image of the great, wide eye. Its red and black pupil was a spiral of despair and pain, and it was like he was being hypnotized into unawareness. All he could feel was pain. He wanted to wake up soon.

_You're mine_, the soundless voice cooed. _Your body and soul belong to me._

"No," he whispered. "No!"

Alfons gritted his teeth in frustration and struggled to break the spell, to move and defend himself. Abruptly he lifted his automail hand to give the eye a good punch, but stopped dead in the middle of the attack. _Automail?_

"Alfons?" Edward's voice whispered. "Is that... you?"

The voice was coming from his own mouth, but Alfons couldn't reply. He wasn't in the same world. He was merely watching through a window of golden eyes.

Desperately Alfons tried to speak, to somehow communicate. He wanted to tell Edward so much; that he and Al were alright (at least not hurt), that they both missed him, that he still _loved_him... But the eye closed in on them and flowed through him like black smoke corrupting his mind and soul, and golden eyes fluttered closed. Everything went black, and in the next moment Alfons was sitting straight up in bed, panting heavily.

"Edward!" he cried, staring up in the ceiling. "Edward..." _What the hell was that? Had that just been real?_

He shook his head and put his feet on the floor. He needed cold water. Struggling himself to the side to disentangle himself from the damp sheets, it was like he still could feel the weight of having an arm of metal and the pain prickling at his neck.

It had felt so real, yet he had no idea what to believe. His mind was confused and his head ached like mad. Alfons made it to the bathroom in the dark, and got a bad feeling as he went through the hall but couldn't really point out exactly what it was. He turned on the cold spring water and swallowed his own face with it. After a minute or two he was so cooled down that he started to shiver. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his upper arm, he gazed into the mirror to the miserable person staring back at him. The bad feeling refused to go away. Was it really a good idea to leave in the morning?

Alfons suddenly whipped around as he had felt another presence brush past him. "Al?" he quipped. No answer.

It was all in his head, he was about to go crazy! But just to be sure he strode towards Al's bedroom, like the bad feeling was leading him straight there, and opened the door carefully. The light was off and he gazed towards the bed. His stomach was seldom wrong. In the dim light from the window and the hall behind him, Alfons realized Al wasn't in his room. The bed was empty, not even touched that night.

With a deep breath, Alfons backpedalled slowly from the room. "Al?" he called out into the dimness. "Alphonse?"

There was still no reply. The apartment was quiet.

Shaking lightly, Alfons used several seconds to wrap his mind around the prospect that Al was now gone too, and it didn't occur to him why until he turned abruptly and walked fast back to the hall. Now he knew why he had gotten the bad feeling as he went towards the bathroom. Al's shoes were gone, and so was his red coat. He had even left the warmer winter coat behind. It was like a part of his mind had tried to warn him that something was wrong, but he hadn't caught on immediately.

Al was mad at him and had run away.

Alfons cursed under his breath and hurried back to his room to get on some clothes. His eyes darted out the window for a second, seeing snow falling lightly and swirling around the wind. It was snowing and cold, and Al was out there somewhere. He had to find him quickly, or else he might freeze to death or get mugged or worse. The dream that had awaked him was suddenly all forgotten.

A couple of minutes later, Alfons was striding down the staircase while shrugging on his coat, three steps at a time and shuddered as he came out on the street in the night. It was 3:00 am in the morning and the streets were empty, apart from a few drunkards.

"_You should've told him about it sooner."_ Edward's voice was gentle inside his soul, not angry as Alfons would've preferred. He didn't deserve Edward's fake voice inside him, sympathetic and understanding. _"Why didn't you?"_

"I'm a coward," Alfons said in a low voice. It didn't matter if drunken by passers heard him talking to himself, he couldn't care less. "I knew he wouldn't take it well so I just procrastinated the inevitable. All my life I've always done that, even with you."

"_Even if I'm not here right now, you two have to stick together,"_ Edward said. _"Share your thoughts with him, Alfons. And he'll do the same with you too."_

"I want to, but he's hated me since we came here," Alfons muttered. "He's simply endured it. His words were pretty damn clear tonight. He hates this world even more than you did."

"_I never hated it,"_ Edward said. _"But you're not exactly giving him any reasons not to. You gave me reasons to love this world as my own."_

"That's not the same," Alfons protested.

"_Isn't it? We're all family, Alfons,"_ Edward said softly. _"Stop excluding yourself from us."_

Alfons stopped walking, a sour wind ruffling his spiky blond locks. "Family..." he repeated softly. "You were the only family I had left. Vato Falman even died. I have no one."

"_That's not true,"_ Edward said. _"Al is your family too."_

He felt arms wrapping around his waist and a chin resting on his shoulder, and his heart stopped. There was a quiet sigh in his ear and the hairs there moved with the feel of a breath. There was no real sense of warmth against his back, but it wasn't cold either, it was just... there. Widening eyes turned to look down and saw the arms folded across his stomach, and if he leaned backwards, just a little, there was support. A fantasy? A dream? A mental disorder?

His heart had kick started and was slamming a mantra and he turned around fast, seeing the air stirring in front of him, and the image of Edward was materializing right before his eyes. "Edward..."

Okay, now he was delusional for real. Clearly he was seeing Edward because he missed him more than anything and that he was at a loss by driving Al away from him. Yet, he couldn't take his eyes off the image. He made no footprints in the snow. His breath didn't fog in the air the way his did. But Alfons had told Al that he believed in the things he had _seen_, and there was no doubt about it. He was staring at Edward.

It was like Edward's soul was glowing. Golden eyes peered gently at him and a small smile appeared on ghostly lips.

"Why am I seeing you?" Alfons swallowed a bit. "I'm going crazy, aren't I?"

"_Nah, it's because I'm still a part of you,"_ Edward said. _"Believe it or not, it's hard for even me to believe it, but I'm right here inside your soul. I'm always with you."_ He reached out his flesh hand, experimentally. Awed, Alfons lifted his hand too, cooled by the frosty air, and slowly touched Edward's. Edward's hand didn't feel anything more than air, but something tickled against Alfons skin, and he didn't know if it was the snow falling, the wind, or something spiritually warming. If he was crazy, so be it. Seeing Edward like this was still a comfort.

"I need to find your little brother," Alfons said softly. "I have to apologize."

"_I know where he is,"_ Edward said. _"I can lead you to him."_

That didn't sound so stupid, Alfons thought and nodded pleased. "Lead the way, please."

They set out together. The wind was getting stronger and it was snowing more than before. The sky was dark and gray, and Alfons tried not to think that he was following after Edward's ghost to find Al in something that felt like to become a snowstorm. Well, things had stopped being logical ever since he came to another world. A small part of that magical place still existed in this one, after all.

They bypassed a man lying drunk and half unconscious in the snow, and Alfons shuddered. He hoped he would find Al before something similar happened to him. Edward's guidance was his only hope. The strange part of it was, it didn't feel like this was the first time Edward had guided him towards Alphonse. No. At that night of full moon, Alfons had followed a feeling deep within his soul before he had found and picked up Al as he was being chased by the mysterious man dressed in white. Somehow a part of Edward lived inside his soul, and he knew everything of what was going on. Alfons couldn't be more relieved at that moment. It was like Edward had never left at all.

"_By the way, you were wrong about one thing, Alfons,"_ Edward said. _"I'm not dead."_

At that point, Alfons had no doubt in hell that he going insane. He had to be. But he welcomed it.


	7. The Letter

Wow, you guys, it's like I've been dead for a couple of months. Though, at least the story isn't dead. I hope you haven't forgotten about me. Enjoy the chapter!

By the way, check out the fanart for_ Amestris 1917: The Equivalent Bond_ **Aevium** has made for me, it's amazing. There's a link in my profile :)

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: THE LETTER**

It was an act of rage rather than rationality, Alphonse was well aware of that, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't want anything more to do with either this world or Alfons Heiderich. Maybe he could hide somewhere, far away, wait for a new prime moon and then open the Gate alone? No matter what happened, he didn't care. He wanted nothing else than to find his big brother. Maybe he could try to bring himself and Edward back to Amestris? That would be best. He didn't want to stay in this dark, sad and pitiful world for the rest of his life.

While Alfons Heiderich was long asleep, Al snuck out, leaving everything in the apartment behind except for his red coat, the green scarf Gracia had made for him for Christmas wrapped around his neck, some money and his cylindrical rod of chalk. Outside it was snowing and the clouds had blanketed the sky with thick cotton layers, though it didn't make this world any warmer.

The wind went straight through his red coat, even if he had buttoned it all the way and brought the hood over his head to cover his ears. The snow tickled on his cheeks and nose, and left echoing bites of frost on his skin.

He couldn't believe Alfons Heiderich! He was an idiotic coward and a selfish moron. Did he even care about Edward at all? Did he even want Edward to come back? Al hadn't the impression that he wanted that at all. Alfons was wholeheartedly denying any possibility that Edward wasn't dead. It pissed Al off and he didn't want anything more to do with him. He could manage perfectly without him. Heiderich could go to America alone if he liked, and move on with his piteous life, feel as sorry for himself as he wanted. Al would never give up on his brother, just like his brother had never given up on him at the time he was in the armour or when he had been captured by Thule Society.

In the midst of his anger, he didn't even care which direction he went. He had been in this part of Munich before though, it was quite central, and some people bypassed him on unsteady feet, although he was continuing towards parts of the city he had never been in. Al pulled the red coat a bit tighter around himself. He didn't regret it. He would never go back to that apartment ever again, not even if he had to spend the rest of the night outside. He could just walk. Walk and walk until faith decided what to do with him. He had some money; maybe he could find an inn somewhere. But not until he was as far away from Heiderich as possible. He didn't want to risk being found.

"_Where are you heading at this hour?"_ Schiller wondered.

"Nowhere," Al said. "Please, don't ask. I'm sure you know what happened anyway."

"_You shouldn't walk outside alone in the middle of the night, kiddo,"_ Schiller warned sincerely. _"Alfons Heiderich will get worried about you when he notices that you're gone."_

"Who cares about_ that?"_ Al grated in a low voice, careful not to be in the range of hearing of any people close by. "He's trying to _force_ me to leave to the other side of the world! I'm already far enough from home!"

"_Isn't he doing it to protect you?"_

"He's doing it to protect himself, more like it," Al muttered. "It seems like he only wants to forget about my brother."

Schiller went silent for a long moment. But not long enough. "_Sometimes I feel something inside your soul, pressing towards the surface. Like right now. Someone is calling for you."_

Al wasn't interested and didn't really listen either. "I don't care anymore; just leave me alone, please!" Feeling awfully upset, he continued his stride forward as the snowflakes were beginning to fall heavier and tighter. He noticed a couple of people standing outside a pub he passed by, as they were regarding him with interest. One of them bumped his elbow lightly into the other, and Al drew his eyes away from them and walked a bit faster.

Alright, walking outside alone so late at night couldn't possibly be considered very safe at all. Munich was a big city, and these times were desperate for many people. Al had read about the inflation and the crisis this world was in, in these post-war times. But none of it had anything to do with him. This world was too sad. He didn't want to get involved in it.

Al stuffed his hands into his pockets and agreed with himself that he wasn't just paranoid. He was being followed, probably by the two men who had stared at him as he walked by the pub. He wanted to avoid a fight, but he didn't want to get mugged either. He didn't have much money, and without it, how would he rent a place to rest for the night? He wanted to continue moving until that plane Alfons was planning to take had left the airstrip.

He heard murmuring voices behind him and they drew closer. His stomach twisted a bit nervously and he slowed down his pace. He could run, but it was tiresome to run in the snow, he had already established that earlier this week. Instead he tensed his knuckles, readying himself in case they made a move at him as he let them catch up. He shoved his hood back as he went, to get a better peripheral.

"Hello there, kid," one of them said in the strange language of this world. "Taking a stroll this late?"

Al stopped as they walked up on either side of him, feeling surrounded and edgy. They both wore long brown coats and looked to be in their late forties. "I'm on my way home," he lied.

"Oh really," the other said. "Is it far? You look like you're about to freeze to death." He actually sounded a bit concerned.

Al hadn't expected that, but couldn't deny it either. He was trembling from the cold. His coat was useless in this climate, but he had been too proud to take the coat Heiderich had bought him instead. Maybe he was a bit stupid, so be it. "It isn't very far," he said. "My brother is waiting for me."

"Your brother, eh? What about your parents?" the first one asked, planting an arm heavily over his shoulders.

Al shifted uncomfortably. "They're waiting too. I should go." He tried to keep on moving, but the other one stepped up and blocked his way.

"You shouldn't be walking around in this weather," he said. "Why don't you come with us inside the pub for a while, and I'll buy you a drink. It'll get you warmed up," he offered.

Al hesitated. "Uhm... I don't think I'm old enough."

"Rubbish, in this part of town anyone is old enough on a cold and shitty night like this one," the man still having his arm securely around Al's shoulders said. "Come on!"

Al swallowed a bit, but had to agree that it was more tempting to go inside somewhere warm rather than continue walking in this awful weather. He was freezing to the bones. So, he let them drag him back towards the pub. Inside it was indeed both nice and warm, the atmosphere even cheerful. Everyone had had a lot to drink, Al could tell, and he was escorted towards the bar counter with one man on either side of him.

"Hey, give this young lad some ale," the first man called to the bartender, ignoring Al's weak protest.

"Coming up."

Al sat down on a high stool, feeling a nervous tug in his stomach. The two men seated themselves on either side of him. He didn't know if he liked the thought of alcohol or this situation entirely, but decided to just go with it.

"You can call me Werner," the first man said. "And this is my friend, Claus. What's your name?"

"Alphonse," Al said a bit flatly. A large glass of golden liquid got placed in front of him, and he doubted he would even be able to drink half of it.

"Come on, drink up, kid!" Claus bumped him in the arm. "It'll make you a man."

Al sighed and idly nursed his beer. A few sips. It didn't taste good, and the liquid was cold, which didn't really make his body any warmer. But it was still better than being outside.

"You sure you're okay? You look a bit scrawny."

Al shook his head. "I'm okay. It's... complicated, I guess."

"Yeah? Where did you come from, kid? We love listening to stories. You don't look like you're from around here," Werner alleged.

Oh what a story he had stored up in his heart, indeed. He almost wished he could spill everything out and get rid of it all. "I came here quite recently," Al admitted.

"With your family?"

Al shrugged. Actually, did it matter if he told them the truth? They didn't seem threatening along with all of these other people around, after all, and he felt like he needed to speak out his feelings. "I don't have a family. I'm looking for my brother."

"You're by yourself, then?" Werner asked puzzled. "Where has your brother gone?"

Al took another sip of the beer. "Far away. I'm not sure where to look yet."

"Well, that's too bad," the older man replied. "Where did you last see him?"

Al's hands tightened around the big glass mug. "It was... not here." He took a long draught to avoid answering anymore. The cold liquid gushed down his throat, leaving a trace of nausea which he ignored. "He might show up here in Munich sometime. He knows that I'm here."

"That's good," Claus replied. "Then he'll come and look for you here."

Al smiled faintly. "Yeah."

"Who are you staying with then, if you don't have a family?" Werner prodded.

"Just someone my brother knew," Al said, his features darkening. "I don't care about him. He's an idiot."

"Why? Did he do something to you?"

Al shrugged again. "He wants us to move to America."

"America?" Werner said in surprise. "That offer I would've taken on any day. Much better over there than this shit hole."

Al gazed up at him in wonder. "Why do you say that? Don't you like Germany?"

"I love Germany," the man replied. "It's the only placed I've ever lived. But this country is damaged. It's hardly possible for anyone to afford to live here. Every time I get paid, I use my lunch break to buy my food for the rest of the week, before the prices get even worse."

"Yeah, and my job doesn't pay me all too well either. I eat soup most of the time," Claus said. He was swaying a bit after throwing down a whole pint in such short time.

"I didn't know it was this bad," Al said. "I don't even have much money. I don't really know what to do."

The man smiled, flashing two rows of yellow teeth and planted a hand on Al's shoulder. "When you don't know what to do, you drink." He squeezed a bit.

"I don't have anything else to do right now," Al snorted and sighed through a bitter smile. "But I definitely won't go back. I can't go to America. Then my brother might never find me."

"But I'm sure your friend only wants what's best for you," the other man accentuated. "There's a better chance to succeed in life over there. Many people despise the Americans, but they go there anyway. We _use_ them to build ourselves up, and when we've reached our goals, we can go back to this hole and fix it up."

Al just nodded. He didn't really care about the economical crises this country suffered from. He had enough with his own selfish wishes. The only thing he wanted was to find his brother. When he had achieved that he would be ready to figure out other things, like what he wanted to do with his life. That seemed like such a minor and insignificant issue in comparison. Al's priority list had always been clear. Be with his brother like normal, find his brother, live together with his brother, and now... save his brother from the Gate.

He took another sip, because it was easy to drink when the mug simply sat there right in front of him and it was also the only thing to do without seeming like an idiot. He realized to his surprise that he had swallowed more than half already without noticing it. But he still felt fine. He remembered once he had promised his brother they would go out and drink together when he was old enough.

"_You mean, when you _look_ old enough," his older brother teased._

Al imagined that would've been fun. They would've talked about old times and laughed. Edward would've jokingly ruffled his hair and made fun of the drunken flush on his cheeks.

He hadn't even noticed that he had emptied the mug until another one was placed right in front of him. Al stared at it for a moment before turning away on the stool with an apologizing look at the generous man. "Sorry, I don't think I should have any more."

The man called Werner made a disappointed face before he smiled. "Are you sure about that, kid?"

Al bobbed his head and swayed a bit, leaning an elbow on the bar counter to keep himself upright. It seems like the effect of the alcohol was stronger than he had first anticipated. "I appreciate your hospitality," he said politely. "But I'm a bit..."

"Are you alright?" Werner laughed.

Al slid off the stool and staggered a bit on his feet as the dizziness hit him like a slap in the face. The man called Werner stood up as well and supported his back. "Easy there. You should remain seated for a bit, you seem a bit wobbly."

"Bit," Al echoed, fighting a small sense of nausea bubbling in his throat. "But it's fine, I think I should go." He might have been slurring a bit. The words stumbled a bit awkwardly out of his mouth. He was still not used to this edged and asymmetrical language.

"Going already, son?" The man held him back. "It's still snowing out there. The pub doesn't close until 4 am. Might get better."

Al politely shook his head. "I'm kind of tired."

"Then where are you supposed to go? You don't want to head _home_, right?" Werner emphasized. And he had a good point.

Al had no idea where to go. "Uhm, I..." he said thoughtfully. "I'm going to find an inn or something."

"At 3 o'clock in the morning?" the man laughed. "I have a better idea. Come with me."

Al hesitated. "I don't know if..."

"Nonsense, you shouldn't be walking out alone this late. Who knows, something might happen to you," the man notified. He nodded at his friend who slipped down from his stool as well and stepped up next to Al. He was still swaying a bit.

"Let's go," Werner said. "I don't live very far from here, you're welcome to stay. Come on." He beckoned Al with him out of the pub.

Al stumbled a bit forward, his mind still hazed from the alcohol. Where were they going? He had a slight feeling of uncertainty in the pit of his belly. He didn't want to come with them to their house. It had been alright inside the pub. There were so many other people there. Now he felt alone and vulnerable again. As the cold and sharp wind of frost hit his face, his mind cleared a bit and his brows knitted into a frown. The man was holding his around his upper arm tightly, partly dragging him forward out of the pub.

Al pulled a bit guardedly at his own arm. "I don't really need..."

"It's alright, son," the man said. "You won't regret it."

"No, we'll take good care of you," the other cooed. "Right, Werner?"

"Yes, we will," Werner agreed.

Al noticed how fast they were suddenly moving. It was almost impossible for him to keep up with Werner's long strides without having to run along. The hold around his arm started to hurt. He didn't feel comfortable with this at all. Alphonse stopped stubbornly and dug his heels into the snow. "Stop."

Werner stopped and tugged again, but Al kept his ground. With a quick twist of his head, Al tried to spot anyone close by on the street that might be able to assist him if he didn't get rid of these two on his own, but to his fretfulness he found the street they were in totally deserted of other people.

"What's the matter, kid? Don't you want to hang out?" Werner had a grin plastered on his face. "It seems he doesn't want to come, Claus." He clicked his tongue a couple of times. "No good."

Al's breath went a bit short as he made a small attempt to get his arm free. Claus reached for his other arm, and in that moment, Al realized that either of them probably had never had any good intentions from the start, and gotten him drunk on purpose.

"We'll take you home and teach you a small lesson or two; maybe you will be good then?" Werner slurred.

"No, thank you," Al replied densely and abruptly twisted his arm out of the grip and stepped back. He dodged away from Claus who made an attempt to grab after him, and the second after Werner charged straight forward to capture him again.

Al made a spring jump, pressed Werner's head down with his hand, stepped up on his shoulder and leaped over the man. He landed in the snow at some distance behind them both and staggered a bit. The alcohol was still rushing through his blood and made him a bit dizzy. But that didn't make him completely defenceless.

Claus and Werner whirled around to face him again, and Claus moved to the side so they could pin him from two sides.

"What do you want?" Al asked. Right now he was tired and if they needed money, he'd give it to them. Going back home actually did sound better than getting dragged somewhere to be beaten up.

"I'll show you very soon, little one," Werner grinned. "You have a lot of spirit. I like that."

Al didn't appreciate the compliment. It reminded him too much of very recent encounters with Thule Society. His instinct told him to act fast and get far away from there. Adrenaline flushed though his blood along with the alcohol, and he lunged first a fist towards Werner's chin, then a knee into his gut. The man let out a grumble and stumbled to his knees in the cold snow.

Al turned quickly and gave his leg a swing right into Claus' stomach. Claus jerked forward with his hand against his stomach, and Al followed by elbowing him in the head. The man collapsed in the snow and didn't seem to be able to stand up for a while. His mind was probably still too hazed from liquor.

"I'm sorry," Al apologized quietly. He turned away from them and started walking. Behind him Werner stood up to his feet, having recovered from the blows.

The man grinned. "I'll take care of this, Claus. Just stay there, I'll come get you later."

Claus simply groaned a bit in response.

Al touched his own forehead. He would never drink again. It simply weakened his body and mind. Al turned around as Werner came for him again, his vision slightly blurry, and his lightheaded mind was unable to dodge the direct punch against his cheek.

Al collapsed in the snow, his ears ringing and breath quickening. He tasted some blood on his lower lip and his eyelids fluttered for some seconds. It would've felt good to sleep right now. Right here.

"Yes, that's it, kid," Werner grumbled above him. "Stay quiet now."

Al felt that he was pulled up to his feet, though his legs felt like jelly. He squirmed a bit weakly as the man wrapped an arm around his waist and started dragging him away.

Where were they going now?

Al's vision was still blurry and his mind dazed. He wanted to speak, and parted his frozen lips. The blood was already dried on his lip. He spat some blood out in the snow, corrupting the pure white with crimson. Lifting his gaze and moseying forward, he noticed that they were already far away from the pub. He had never been here before; at least, he didn't recognize the street in the dark.

"Keep still, kid," Werner grunted. "I'll take you somewhere nice."

No. No, he didn't want that. Al abruptly locked his body and stiffly planted his heels down in the snow. "Let go of me!" he whirred. "I don't want—"

Werner hissed in his ear. "If you don't do what I say, I will start punish you right here." In one quick motion he twisted Al's arm into an arm lock behind his back and Al parted his lips, inhaling to scream, but the man's other hand clamped over his mouth.

"Not a word," he whispered.

Al struggled a bit harder and muffled a choked cry into the hand.

"We'll have a good time tonight," the man grinned into his ear. "Not even your friend will miss you, he'll simply go to America without you, won't he? Yes. You're only mine."

Al shook his head. No, Alfons Heiderich wouldn't go if he wasn't there, he knew it. But that didn't change anything.

"We'll be there soon," Werner cooed.

Al twisted and struggled by now, and he was making it hard for Werner to continue walking. He kicked at Werner's legs, hoping to make him fall so he could slip away. If he was taken inside a house, everything would probably be over. Then it wouldn't be easy to escape.

Werner lost the grip around his mouth and Al twisted away, though the man still kept a strong hold around his wrist. Before Al could duck away, the man backhanded him hard across his cheek, making his skin crawl and blood throb.

His vision fogged again, and he could only barely see the shadow of another man approaching them fast. Had Claus recovered by himself?

Suddenly his arm was released and he stumbled away before collapsing back into the soft and comfortable snow. He barely even felt the cold anymore. His body had gone numb. He heard shouting voices, and as he lifted his head, he spotted the profile of no other than Alfons Heiderich; his blue eyes narrowed in rage and his fist slamming into the older man's face.

Al stared at him in wonder. Why had the intense look in Alfons' eyes suddenly reminded him so much of his brother's?

"Al!" Alfons kneeled next to him and touched his shoulder. "Al, are you okay?"

Al parted his lips to apologize, but his brain stopped him. Nothing had changed. "Leave me alone," he muttered and stood up to his knees, then climbed back up to his feet.

Alfons stood up as well, his face surprisingly calm, still holding his shoulder. "Alphonse..."

"Don't touch me!" Al seethed and backpedalled away from the elder. "Just go away."

"Alphonse," Alfons scowled. "Have you been _drinking?_"

"It's none of your business. I don't want to go with you!" Al suddenly shouted. "Stay out of my life!"

"Al, please let me explain," Alfons retorted. "I _do_ want to get him back!"

"No you're not!" Al countered. "Then you'd actually let me try!"

Werner stumbled towards them again, having once again recovered from the blow. He grinned. "You should stop fighting, boys. What do you say you both come with me?"

"_Shut up!_" both Al and Alfons shouted out in unison, followed by their fists connecting on each side of the man's face at the same time. Werner got flung back and landed heavily on the ground. This time he'd definitely not get up for a while.

Both Al and Alfons stood there panting for a moment and watched the fallen man. Al's eyes darted to Alfons first as he realized what they just did. Alfons scowled a bit and turned back to Al, a small smile emerging in the corner of his lip.

Al couldn't help smiling a bit as well, and a dry laugh escape his throat.

"Let's go," Alfons said. "It's freezing out here."

"Alright," Al mumbled.

They went side by side, following the many footprints in the snow of the sidewalk. Even if it was drawing closer to morning than night, the darkness was still present, still cold and bitter, and the stars were sharp points of lights shimmering down to earth, making the white snow glow. Their silence was brittle and cooling down along with the frosty night. Al stared up at the elder, his eyes seeming far away from the present despite what they had just been through. Al felt it was up to him to break the cold silence.

"If you want to bring my brother back, why are you so afraid to do it?" He just knew, he could read it in his eyes, his soul. Alfons Heiderich was frightened, though he hid it well behind a façade of guilty pretence.

Alfons didn't reply momentarily. He seemed reluctant to admit it out loud. "It's complicated, Al. The Gate... it was capable of doing these horrifying things to us." Alfons bowed his head as he spoke. "Even before it took Edward away, it changed things. It led us into a trap, manipulated us. It made my faith of something to believe in ebb entirely out of me and when people in this world lose faith in God, or just _anything_, it makes us biased. I don't know what to believe anymore. It's like we're mere puppets, controlled by a thing hardly anyone knows exists."

"This isn't about believing," Al said, his voice a bit sharp. "It's about my _brother_. You know deep down, as well as me, that he's still out there."

Alfons stuffed his hands down into his pockets. _Al, you're almost too smart for your own good._

"You don't _want_ him to come back!"

"Al..." Alfons' heart stung like it has just been impaired with shreds of glass.

"Is it because you're afraid that he has forgotten about you?" Al asked, more quietly. "Like I did?"

Alfons was about to protest, but something stopped his voice from breaking the surface. His eyes stung from unshed tears welling up, blank and distant. Did Al have a point? Yes, he was afraid that Edward had forgotten about him. But was he so afraid that he wouldn't even give faith a chance, and if Edward had forgotten about him, didn't Alfons want him back in his life at all? Would it hurt too much to see Edward happy without loving him?

"You don't want him to come back to even start anew?" Al stopped in the middle of the street, regarding Alfons' eyes observantly until Alfons turned away and stopped as well. "You can't possibly be that selfish!" Al went on, louder. "What makes you believe that Edward wouldn't still love you? If he really did, he wouldn't need his memories!"

There was a silence, but the words still echoed in the night.

Alfons let out a sharp breath, his head tilting back towards the stars as he let his eyes flow over and the tears, running as words his heart couldn't even express, quietly down his cheeks. He was broken, lost. As an echo of his deepest sorrow, he felt Edward's presence close to him again, like a metal and a flesh arm wrapping around him from behind, and a soft cheek against his shoulder, a gentle and warm breath tickling his neck. He didn't speak, but Alfons didn't need him to. He felt his presence in his heart, soothing him down.

An image as clear as the snow among him visualized in his head. One of his last memories of Edward. He was inside the white space and Edward's flesh hand caressed his cheek, and their foreheads touched.

"_You're much stronger than me. You just don't realize it... Just remember, nothing happened in vain. I'll always love you, Alfons."_

Nothing had happened in vain. Alfons still didn't understand how that was possible. But he knew, Edward wasn't dead. And as long as he wasn't dead, he couldn't simply stop believing in him.

"All this time, you've just tried to pretend that there's nothing we can do," Al said. "You're pretending that it's all over. But it's not."

Alfons took a deep breath and turned back to Al. "You're right, Al... You're absolutely right."

Al nodded and huffed a little, knitting his ice cold fingers together. To his surprise he felt a little bit better now, just by hearing Alfons Heiderich agreeing with him on this. Alfons hadn't given up on Edward after all. For the first time, he really didn't feel all alone in this world.

"Let's go back," Alfons said softly. "You're freezing."

Al couldn't deny that fact and agreed. Side by side they walked back to their apartment.

"Thanks for saving me from that guy," Al mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed. "And I didn't mean to drink, I..."

"Al, it's okay," Alfons said. "Just be a bit careful, alright?" He smiled again.

Al stared up at him, a bit of anxiety in his eyes. "Are... Are we still going?"

Alfons knew immediately what he meant. "Al, I know it's sudden. But I know your brother would've wanted us to go. Believe me..." he muttered. "I know better than you think."

Al mused a bit at that. Somehow he just knew Alfons was right, but that didn't mean that he still wanted to go. "But what if he comes here?"

Alfons met his eyes. "Al, I'll make sure he'll know where we are once he comes back. Just trust me, okay? Your brother is smart. He'll figure things out."

Al took a deep breath, and even if it was hard to accept this arrangement, the circumstances were a bit better than he had first anticipated. If anyone was able to trace back to them, it would be his brother. No matter where in the world they were. Maybe he'd lacked a bit of faith in his older brother as well without knowing it? Al finally nodded in agreement. "Okay."

Alfons could almost not believe his own ears. Al would come with him willingly. He guessed it was good he didn't have to forcefully drag Al to the train station in the morning.

* * *

Alfons never slept that night. He had first made sure that Al had fallen peacefully asleep in his room, after he had packed his things. Al's words had really affected his heart, and he was right.

"_What makes you believe that Edward wouldn't still love you? If he really did, he wouldn't need his memories!"_

No matter what Edward remembered, Alfons would make sure it didn't change anything, he thought as he lay wide awake in his bed with the brush of Edward's presence next to him. It felt warm and comforting, because inside his heart, Edward finally smiled again.

"Are you always with me?" Alfons whispered out in the dark.

"_Mostly,"_ Edward said. _"When you let me."_

"Don't I always let you?"

"_No. S__ubconsciously. I'm here when you need me to be,"_ Edward said and chuckled softly.

Alfons closed his eyes and curled up on his side. "I always need you." Needing Edward was like he had never needed anything else in his life. He needed him like the ocean needs water. Like a shadow needs light to emerge. Like the moon needs the sun to shine.

Edward's ghostly hair tickled his cheek as Edward leaned over him and tenderly kissed his forehead. _"Then I'm here."_

"Not for real," Alfons murmured. "But I'm happy for the small part of you that I have at the time being." He sat up again, as he suddenly remembered something he had forgotten to do before he had noticed that Al was gone earlier that night. He stood up from bed and stepped across the room to the bookshelf, picking out a thick book. Then he stepped over to the desk and opened the drawer.

"_What are you going to do?"_ Edward asked.

"I'll pay dearly if I get caught," Alfons muttered. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"_Who would I tell?"_ Edward said dryly.

Alfons took out the gun Van Hohenheim had left, a scissor and some aluminium foil. "I'm not leaving this behind... It has protected us before."

Edward frowned at the gun. _"It has hurt us before too."_

"I'll keep it at a safe place. It's just in case of an emergency," Alfons said, and flipped the book open on a random page early in the book. Then he started cutting a hole into the thick layer of pages, big enough that the gun would fit. Then he wrapped the gun into aluminium foil and in the end, he pushed the gun inside the book and closed the cover. The foil filled the empty space so the gun wouldn't accidentally fall out. Some pages at the beginning and the end of the book were still whole, so even if someone opened the book on the first page, the gun wouldn't be visible.

"_Don't they search people on airports?" _Edward wondered.

Alfons nodded. "Yeah that's true, but only the suspicious types. Do I look suspicious?" He went for an innocent smile.

"_I guess not,"_ Edward mused, but his concerned expression lingered.

"It's the least of our problems," Alfons muttered, putting the book into his suit case next to Edward's Christmas present from Gracia, and dropped back down on his back on the bed again, his arm resting behind his head. "It'll be a long trip." Even if he tried to close his eyes, sleep wouldn't come to him. Not that he really wanted to either. He enjoyed having Edward here with him, even if he partly wasn't real...

"I'll always have a fear in my heart that... you don't remember," Alfons murmured. "I can't ask you if you remember, I guess?"

Edward chuckled. _"I'm afraid I don't know. But I can tell you this: Al lost his memories of you, but that doesn't necessarily mean I did. Al's memories were his toll from another time, when he got back his memories of his journey together with me. When we were inside the Gate, I paid the toll for you with my body and soul, not my mind."_

"I know," Alfons whispered. "But I just couldn't help thinking what if. We've been through so much, both happiness and pain. Everything that has happened has both weakened me and given me strength, but I didn't want to be left alone with those memories."

"_We'll always create new memories,"_ Edward soothed. _"You're doing that right now, together with my little brother."_

"If you were out there, would you know about us?" Alfons asked quietly. "Would you know where we are and what we're doing?"

"_Even if I'm able to talk to you__ now, I'm afraid these conversations won't reach my body,"_ Edward confessed slowly. _"My memories of you here and now aren't being saved inside my mind, which means, if I should happen to come back to this world, I wouldn't know you left."_

"I see," Alfons understood. "Then I'll make sure that you'll find us somehow."

"_Appreciate it,"_ Edward said.

Alfons sat up. He might as well start now since he couldn't sleep anyway. He rummaged around his room and stepped over to his finished packed suit case. He found paper, pen and ink, and sat down by his desk, turned on the small lamp.

"_What are you going to write?"_ Edward asked curiously.

"It's for you," Alfons replied with a faint smile. "When you get back."

The letter was hard to start, and Alfons sat for almost twenty minutes and merely let his thoughts spin around everything that had happened. He couldn't reveal too much, in case the letter ended up in the wrong hands. He had to let Edward know where they were going in a way that only Edward would understand. And he had the perfect solution. Code. Edward had taught him how to decode Van Hohenheim's books, which meant Alfons could code the letter by using the same method and only Edward would figure it out.

_Dear Edward..._

As soon as he was past the first paragraph, every word was flowing out of him and he could hardly write fast enough. Before he even knew it he had written the page full and had to get more paper. Edward would easily see the clue, Alfons was certain of that. After he was finished he put the letter in a place he knew Edward would look. Finally Alfons felt soothed enough to get one hour sleep before they had to get ready to go to the train station. It would be another long day tomorrow, but he kind of looked forward to it.

"When you read this," Alfons whispered. "We'll be waiting for you to come after us."

"_I'll do my best,"_ Edward said and snuggled close behind him.

_I hardly know where to begin. I could barely comprehend the fact that you didn't make it to this world with us. The one thing that saved me, was your brother. He doesn't even know it, but without him I wouldn't have made it back to the city._

_In the end, everything happened so fast and I was so afraid. I still am. Someone showed up after you were gone, and they know who we are. One of them is after Al, and he knows certain things. I suspect he's related with both Thule and murder. I don't know exactly what they want from us, but I chose to take Al away from here. I'm sorry for everything. There was no time for any explanations. The Gate was gone, so were you. I don't know if we'll be able to see you again, and it hurts. Nothing has ever hurt this much. And even as much as it hurts me, it hurts Al even more. He didn't want to leave, despite the danger of staying in Munich and even if I felt bad about it I made him come with me. Hopefully he'll forgive me someday._

_It's the end of 1923 soon. A new year, a new beginning? I don't know how there can be a new anything without you. Nothing will ever be the same. I can't even imagine a life without you. For now, I'm simply taking one day at the time and clinging to the one person I have left, whom I consider family. We tried to settle down in Munich, but it didn't always feel like we succeeded. Though, we're going to try again, in another place._

_It was completely surreal, realizing you were no longer with us, especially since the Gate almost erased my existence. It's difficult to go on without you, after everything that has happened. After we came through I learned that Alphonse doesn't remember me. Every single image is erased from his mind. Sometimes I started wondering... Was I ever in the other world to begin with, or was it just a dream?_

_What I'm even more afraid of is that your memory was affected as well. The Gate might have erased me from the other world, after all. Have you forgotten about me too? I'm afraid to know. If you have forgotten about me, how shall I tell you everything if we should ever meet again? All the memories I refuse to let go of. You're in all of them._

_Al still believes that you're out there, and he wanted to wait for you in Munich no matter what. But I know you'd want the best for him, so I'm trying as hard as I can. I'll try to provide a future for him in this world. That's why I decided to leave, at the same time it started getting too dangerous to stay. Whoever they are, they know something and I'm afraid to reveal too much in case they find this letter before you do._

_I miss you, Edward.__ We both do. I still feel a strong connection to you sometimes, like you weren't gone at all. It's difficult to explain. I might even be out of my mind, I'm not sure. But wherever I am, I'm always reminded of you and how you always made me feel loved._

_Despite everything we've been through, I wonder what makes Al so sure, how he's able to keep his confidence so strong. It's something he has unmistakeably gotten from you. Your brother is determined and smart. His will to find you will never diminish, and he'll always stay positive that we'll meet you again._

_I want to believe __in it too. I've been a fool and a coward for not believing it as strongly as Alphonse. Your brother is right. I have to stop pretending that everything is over, because it's not. But I know what _it_ is capable of and I saw you disappear right in front of my eyes after you told me never to try to get you back. Sorry, I don't know if I can keep that promise. Nevertheless, I know you'll be able to find us if you should be ever able to return._

_One thing I'm certain of, __I swore to you that I would take care of your brother. I've found a new life purpose, until we meet again. For your sake, I will live it through until I die._

_If you ever read this… We're waiting for you in this world's Amestris._

_With love,_

_Alfons_

"_Clever code,"_ Edward approved. _"I hope I find it."_


	8. Arrival

Hey guys! Here is my Christmas update. Happy holidays to all of you :D

**

* * *

CHAPTER 8: ARRIVAL**

Friday morning Gracia was making a bouquet of tulips and lilacs someone had ordered for his wife's birthday. She was proud of her tulips. They could literally survive through anything in the current wintry temperature.

There was a ring in the main entrance of the flower shop as a tall man entered and lifted off his hat in a polite greeting. "Good morning."

Gracia met him with a smile. "Hello, sir. How can I help you?"

"I was actually looking for someone who lives here," the man answered and stopped in front of her counter. "A young boy."

Gracia turned a bit suspicious, but hid it behind her usual friendly smile. "Oh, you must be talking about Alfons. He's not here, I'm afraid."

"He isn't? I thought I was here early enough not to miss him," the man said, feigning disappointment. "When will he be back?"

"Not for a while," Gracia said apologetically. "He's gone on vacation."

"Where?"

The questions had suddenly turned more demanding. Gracia faltered a bit, but didn't lose her smile. "He didn't tell me where he went, I'm sorry, sir. Was it anything important? He might call, so I can give him a message."

"No thank you, there's no need for that," the man replied, though the polite choice of words didn't reach the tone of his voice. "Good day, ma'am." He turned away and stalked out of the shop.

Gracia took a deep breath and turned for the phone to call her fiancé to tell him that someone who was likely to be the suspect had stopped by. Good thing Al and Alfons had already left.

* * *

Al's nose was still a bit sore from the assault last night. He couldn't really believe that he had ended up under the influence of alcohol and vulnerable like that. What had he been thinking? He felt utterly ashamed of himself.

The train whistled nostalgically. Trees and houses flashed by the window as he idly rested his cheek in his palm. The suitcase stuffed with books and some clothes rested on a shelf above his head next to Alfons'. He hadn't had much time to question Alfons about their travel route before the elder had fallen dead asleep in the seat next to him. When the ticket lady had passed by, Al had carefully worked Alfons' ticket out of his hand and given them both to the lady.

She had smiled at him and said: "I hope you and your brother will have a nice trip."

Al descended tediously down in his seat, resting his foot at the edge and his knee against the back of the unoccupied seat in front of him. Apparently they were going to a city called Prague first. It was in another country, but the languages resembled each other enough to understand one another. According to Heiderich, that couldn't be said about the place they were really going. On the other hand, they spoke the main language of this world there. Al wondered if it would be difficult to learn. Though, he didn't even understand how he knew how to speak and understand German in the first place.

He gazed over at Alfons' sleeping face, thinking about their conversation last night. Alfons Heiderich did still not understand to the full extent. They couldn't just move on and give up. They couldn't simply do what was the safest. Al knew, Alfons had probably not comprehended that just yet. But Al would make him realize it sooner or later. For now he could move to another country. Al had settled with the thought that they could run away from bad people, but not from the prime moon.

Al rested his head back and closed his eyes. Like Alfons, he hadn't gotten very much needed sleep last night. It didn't take long before he dozed off for a bit. He had hardly even fallen asleep before he felt the familiar sound of a heart beating, but somehow he knew it belonged to someone other than himself. He was feeling someone else's heartbeat inside him. Or was he feeling it from inside someone else? It was the strangest feeling he had ever experienced in his life.

He tried to move and see, but he to his surprise he couldn't control his own body. No matter how much he tried to lift his arm, it didn't obey his brain. With a frown Al felt the difference within this soul, a mix of something dark and something warm. He was caught in the middle, each side pulling at him as he was tied with invisible threads. Still unaware of what was going on, he tried a little desperately to move closer to the warmer and more inviting area rather than falling too much on the colder, darker side.

Suddenly his eyes opened, though he hadn't decided that for himself. He hadn't even realized his eyes had been closed up till now. His body was aimlessly floating in the middle of an ocean of moving, black hands. Other than that, everything was white. What the...?

A groan escaped his lips and his vision swam. Al tried desperately to keep focus, afraid of losing the light despite how scary his surroundings were. The black hands curled around his arms and legs and kept him floating on his back.

_My body,_ the soundless voice thundered inside his head. _My imperfect body. Do you want your arm and leg back? I have them right here._

"My... arm and... leg..." his brother's familiar voice whispered. "Bastard..."

_What will you give up for them?_ it asked mockingly._ Any memories you don't need? I can erase him from your mind too, if you like. That should be enough for an arm. But what about your leg?_

"Shut up, you bastard! I'm not giving you anything."

Al couldn't take it anymore and gasped. "Brother!"

Edward frowned, suddenly becoming aware of the other's connection to him. "Al...?"

_This is troublesome_, it said. _Go away, human._

"Brother!" Al called desperately from inside his brother's very soul. "I'll get you out of there, I promise! I will bring you back!"

He felt his golden eyes widen in terror. "Al, no!"

A huge eye suddenly showed up above him, filling his brother's vision and Al felt his soul letting go of him. "Brother!" he called out again, and suddenly jerked awake so abruptly that it felt like a hard slap in the face.

His heart raced and his breath was ragged like he had been running. His forehead even felt damp. His fingers clutched around the armrests on his seat. That dream... It couldn't have been an ordinary dream. He had experienced it a couple of times before, but never this intense. Before he had simply seen the white space through his brother's eyes; hadn't actually talked to him or heard Truth speak.

"Al, is everything alright?" Alfons must have noticed his agitated expression, because he was staring at him in mild concern.

Al nodded fast. "It's nothing. Just a bad dream..."

Alfons seemed to understand. "They come easily these days, don't they..."

"Yeah," Al agreed quietly. "They do."

"Can I get you anything?" Alfons offered. "I'm going to get some coffee or something in the kiosk in the front cabin."

"Yes, please. Something to drink. Doesn't matter what," Al replied candidly.

"Alright, I'll be back soon." Alfons stood up and disappeared forward through the train cabin.

Al remained staring out the window. The environment had changed into mountains and fields, albeit hidden underneath a white carpet of snow, the sun was shining brightly from the blue sky. It wasn't as blue as the sky he remembered from home, but it was much better than the grey clouds in Munich.

His thoughts fell back on the dream again, and he felt an urge stronger than ever to get his older brother back. Al was getting more and more certain that these dreams were real. He felt it. Edward was close to his soul. Constantly. Almost like Schiller. He had the same feeling of another presence resting inside him.

His brother was merely being held a prisoner inside the Gate, his soul somehow darkened by this so-called Truth. They had to save him.

Al tightened his fists. The _prime moon_ couldn't come quick enough. He was counting the days. Next prime full moon would be in February. February 23rd. Two months. He took a deep breath. Thinking of what place his brother was in, two months seemed like two years.

Though, he had yet to convince a certain someone of that idea.

Alfons Heiderich came back a short while later, handing Al a juice box and a bar of chocolate. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Al said. He sat up more properly in his chair and folded out the small plastic table in front of him to keep the food and drink on. "How long is it before we reach Prague?" he asked as Alfons sat back down in his own seat next to him.

"Hmm, I believe there's about four hours left," Alfons said. "We'll get there by 3 o'clock, and the plane leaves at 7 pm. It's just about the time we need to get to the airport and check in."

Al nodded slowly while drinking some juice with a straw. "Why couldn't we just fly to America from Germany?"

"There are no planes to America from Germany," Alfons replied with a soft smile. "After the war we lost a lot. The country has yet to rebuild itself before we'll be able to fly airplanes again. There are a few exceptions, but only within the Western parts of Europe. Thule Society was an exception as well. They built their own armoured aircraft in order to invade Amestris."

Al listened quietly, but with interest. He was glad they had been able to stop Thule Society. If not, Amestris would've been annihilated by bombs. Still, he didn't quite understand why they had wanted to destroy his world. "They're at fault for my brother being gone."

Alfons was slightly surprised. Last time Al had blamed someone, it had been merely _him_. "I guess they helped a bit," he muttered. "But to be honest, I don't really understand whose fault it is. It might be mine, or the Gate or Thule. But that's not what matters the most."

Al inwardly sighed. "What matters the most?" He knew the answer. All Alfons was thinking about was to live with the loss and move on.

"That we don't forget," Alfons said.

Al stared at him in light surprise. Then he felt a bit guilty. Okay, maybe he had been wrong about Alfons on certain things, but not everything entirely. He was still being thick in the head for not agreeing to let him use alchemy. And it was not that Al had wanted to _forget_ about anything, he just simply couldn't remember. The memories were erased and there wasn't much he could do about it. Though, he would remember everything he could.

"I wish I remembered you," he said quietly, drawing a couple of astonished blue eyes towards him. "It was hard for me to understand at first, what you really are to my brother. But I think I know now."

Alfons regarded him with a soft expression. "To be honest, you took the news better the second time than the first."

Al let out a hollow laugh. "Oh really. Well, I guess I didn't find any sticks close enough around to hit you with."

Alfons let out a laugh as well. "Well, there was a time in Resembool you caught us a bit off guard, and you tried to punch me."

Al looked a bit disturbed. "I don't need to hear the details."

Alfons grinned and jokingly rubbed Al's hair. Sometimes Edward had done that, though he didn't really think about it until he'd already permanently accomplished it. But Al simply brushed him off with a laugh the same way he would've done if it had been Edward. It made him feel relief. Al accepted that they were closer now.

It felt a bit odd, feeling his own lips grinning like that. Alfons hadn't felt this light in his heart since the last time Edward had been in his arms. How he missed it. But maybe he was able to smile again because he knew they were on their way towards better times and a new, fresh start. Even without Edward, this seemed better than to just sit around in Munich in the old apartment that was practically whispering Edward's name all around him every day.

He took a deep breath at that thought. Was he out of his mind, or was there more to it? He didn't even know anymore. Still, Edward's presence was welcome inside him anytime. He really hoped the Edward living inside his heart came with him to America and wasn't stuck back home to haunt the apartment. There was something strangely soothing about having him around. Alfons closed his eyes and listened to his own heartbeat, trying to search for Edward in there somewhere, but for now he couldn't hear anything. Maybe he was sleeping.

* * *

As the train ride finally came to an end, Al's first choice wasn't really to get to an airport and continue the afternoon there. But he guessed he had no choice. The schedule was tight despite that they had four hours. They took a taxi to the airport and waited in line to check in. By the counter someone's luggage was being opened by security guards to be checked.

Alfons started to feel nervous. If he was caught with a gun at the airport he would definitely not even make it to America. He started to regret bringing it in the first place. When in the hell would he need a gun anyway? He had used one once, but never really planned on using one again. Unless it was a matter of life and death, of course. Besides, he had been shot once so he knew perfectly well how that was like.

The security guards didn't seem to find anything suspicious in the suit case they had been rummaging through, and the owner was free to go with his tickets. The next one in line passed through without being checked. So, they at least did not check everyone. But did they do it randomly or strictly to every other person in line? Since there were two of them, did it mean that one of their suit cases would be checked either way?

"Are you okay?" Al asked, having noticed Alfons' anxious look.

"Yeah, of course," Alfons said and forced a smile.

"You're lying."

The statement was so confident and true Alfons was almost thrown off his feet. He laughed nervously. "It's nothing to worry about."

Al scowled at him. But he didn't get to ask more before it was their turn to hand in their suitcases. It was too late to change their minds, anyway.

"Passports, please," the lady behind the counter said.

How did one _not_ look suspicious? Alfons had no idea.

Al scowled some more as he regarded the two passports Alfons handed to the lady, his hand shaking a bit, and he remembered he had forgotten to mention the passports to Al. Oh well. Everything concerning that was in order at least.

"Are you all right, sir?" the lady asked.

"W-what?" Alfons got knocked out of his trance.

"You seemed a little worked up." She looked at him in concern.

Alfons tried to ignore the looks for the security guards behind her. "Yes, thank you, I'm alright. Just a bit nervous of flying," he lied.

"That's alright, it's perfectly safe," the lady reassured him. She took their suit cases and marked them with a sticker that had a number code on it. Alfons hid his nervousness behind a mild façade as their luggage was passed through the security without being checked.

"Have a nice trip," the lady said and smiled at him.

"Thank you," Alfons said as he received their boarding cards.

As they stepped away from the counter he let out a relieved sigh.

Al knew he had lied, but he didn't seem to care anymore. "I didn't know I had a passport," he said sullenly. "So that's what we were at the police station for the other day."

"Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you about it," Alfons said.

"It would've been nice if you had," Al muttered.

"We should get some dinner," Alfons said, gracefully changing the subject. "Are you hungry?"

Al sighed a bit. Actually he was starving. "Yeah."

After going through another security check without any trouble, they found a small restaurant by the gates. When they had filled their stomachs, the hours crawled by a bit slowly, but they used their time to explore the bookshops and souvenir stores. Al also made the time go by observing the people walking past. There were people from all kinds of countries, he could tell, which was probably natural since this was an airport. He heard them talking, but he mostly couldn't understand much of what they were saying.

Some languages sounded merely like people were angry, while other sounded more elegant and sinuous. Al thought it was funny how each letter of the Latin alphabet could be pronounced in so many different ways. He picked up some words he recognized from German, but he didn't know if anything sounded like Amestrian. Sadly, he didn't remember at all how Amestrian sounded like.

It was soon time to board the plane as Alfons Heiderich returned from a short errand while Al had waited for him on a bench.

"I bought something for you," Alfons said with a smile. "Here you go." He handed Al a book.

Al accepted it slowly and looked at the cover. It was a German-English dictionary.

"I don't know if you'll need it or not, but it might come in handy," Alfons explained. "Edward didn't have much trouble with learning languages fast, and I doubt you will either. But just in case. You can prepare yourself on the plane."

"Thank you," Al said with a smile. A good place to start knowing this world was learning how to speak its international language, after all. He let his thumb flip through the pages of the thick volume, briefly scanning through the words, grammar rules and phrases.

Soon after, the announcement came that they could start boarding the plane. Al felt a bit excited, but nervous too. He remembered he had flown before with his brother not long ago, but this would be very different.

Compared to the flying machine Thule Society had used in his world, this flying machine was _small_. Al got anxious the minute he saw it. Was this small machine going to fly to America? It had space for about a dozen people. The hall with seats had to be at least less than half the size of a train cabin, and Al felt slightly claustrophobic. The rows of seats were placed very close to each other, making the space for their legs too narrow to be very comfortable.

Still, Al sat down in his seat without complaining, seeing Alfons struggling even more to get comfortable taking his longer legs into account. Staring out the small, circular window, Al could mainly see the right wing spreading out from the body of the plane. He fidgeted a little and held onto his German-English dictionary for the sake of comfort.

A female voice announced a lot of information where the voice got muffled and noisy through the speakers. Al could hardly understand a word of what she was saying. As the announcement ended and the engines started to come to life, Al knew he would've preferred to take a boat rather than fly. The engines made so much noise, Al could hardly even concentrate on reading the cover of the book. He considered alchemy a much better direction of science than this thing.

The plane started to move and his heart jerked inside his chest. Last time he had flown hadn't been nearly as scary, despite the fact that he had been on board an enemy vessel. This flying machine seemed so fragile and simple in comparison, and Al felt much closer to the ground underneath him as the airplane drove towards the tarmac.

Next to him Alfons sent him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Al wasn't so sure, but before he could reply the plane sped up straight forward and the force pressed him back into his seat. He closed his eyes shut as the wheels lifted off the ground, and his stomach made an uncomfortable twist. At least this thing _could _fly.

It got a bit better as the airplane went higher into the sky, and Al dared stare out the window again. He could see a spot below the wing, the city of Prague disappearing and being replaced by the trees of a large forest and fields. From that moment, Al couldn't take his nose off the window and forgot about all the edginess. Seeing the world from the sky was just too beautiful to miss. He could even see the shadow of the plane sailing over the country like a giant eagle.

The view from the airplane, from the sky, Al mused, created a new and much more accurate geographical dimension. Better than his own world had ever had. There was a navigable ocean of air blanketing the whole surface of the globe. It was like there were no distant places any longer. It proved that the world was small and the world was one.

"When will we arrive?" he asked Alfons.

"We'll arrive at Lyon in France by midnight," Alfons said, leaning back and reading a book in English he had found in the bookshop. He needed to practice some as well. "We'll have to spend some of the night there before the plane takes us further."

Al nodded and stretched for a bit, as far as he could come in this narrow space. "Alright."

The airplane had reached the clouds by now, and he was no longer able to see the earth. Though, it was still interesting to watch the white clouds below the plane. Al rested his elbow on the window sill and his cheek in his palm.

_Wherever you are, Brother, whatever you're going through, I will make sure to pull you out __of there alive. Trust me and don't give up._

Al smiled softly and dozed off to sleep in his seat.

* * *

Alfons was relieved when they arrived at Lyon, which allowed him to stretch out his aching legs. The worst part of the trip was still not over, but at least they were half-way done. It was late and most of the stores and restaurants at the airport were closed. Only some kiosks were still open. They settled on a bench in the terminal to wait for morning.

Al looked a bit worn. He had spent the plane ride switching between reading and sleeping every once in a while. Alfons felt a bit proud of him, how well he handled all these circumstances despite that he had practically forced him to go.

"Just rest if you want," Alfons said. "I'll stay awake." It was risky to sleep in a public spot like this, but he didn't mind if Al slept. It was enough that one of them stayed awake.

"What about you?" Al said unsurely.

"I still have my book," Alfons reassured. "Besides, I slept a lot on the train."

"Alright," Al sighed, and not long after he was fast asleep again, curled up on his side next to Alfons on the bench, using the German-English dictionary as a pillow.

Alfons smiled at the sight and returned to his book.

He thought it was sad that they were here in France at such stupid time period. Had it been daytime they could at least have explored Lyon for a while before leaving again. But he figured there would be time to explore more of the world later. Before that there were other things to be done.

The hours went strangely fast despite the fact that there wasn't much to do but sit and wait. The plane would continue on at 6 am in the morning, and would arrive at the airport in Boston in the evening.

The second plane ride was one of the worst Alfons had been on. Even if he had flown before, he had never been in the air for this long with so small space and so bad tasting food. But still, he told himself that it would be worth it once they arrived.

On the most part he was right. He felt unbelievably relieved once they were allowed to step out of the plane, onto American soil.

Al blinked a bit at the lights of the terminal hall they entered. This place was considerably much bigger than the ones in both Prague and Lyon. His eyes went in all directions to be able to drink in everything, but it was nearly impossible to notice it all. Still, Al couldn't help his urge to have to observe every single thing in his eyes' range. It was starting to become an annoying habit of his.

He was almost relieved when Alfons urged him onward to get their luggage from the rolling bands. Alfons fetched their suitcases off the band since it was crowded and difficult for them both to get through to the luggage. He returned to Al's side and handed him his case.

"Thanks," Al said. "But now what?" They had nowhere to actually _live_ yet. "Who is this person you're going to visit, by the way?"

"First," Alfons said, "we'll check in at a hotel and eat and sleep in a bed. Tomorrow, we'll take a cab."

Al had to agree that it sounded like a pretty logical plan.

* * *

Neil Oscar Cotton lived in a small house in a central suburb. He didn't seem to drive a car, so he lived central enough to walk anywhere he needed. Like Vato Falman he appeared to live alone, because Alfons could only see one name on his mail box. He felt a bit nervous of just showing up here on New Year's Eve without even calling first. Still, he stepped up to the porch anyway, followed by Al.

"Is this okay?" Al whispered behind him. "What are we doing here?"

"What I'm hoping is that he might be able to help us," Alfons said in a low voice. "He knows people in my field, so maybe he can introduce me to some of them. It might make it a bit easier for me to find a job."

"Oh," Al said.

Alfons knocked on the door. It was only 1 pm, so it was neither too early nor too late for a visit. Not long after the door opened, first only a little bit of crack, so a suspicious eye could regard them both for a moment, before the man hesitantly opened the door a bit further. "Can I help you, boys?"

"Hello, yes," Alfons said. "Are you Neil Oscar Cotton, the aerospace engineer I've heard of?" He spoke in German and was relieved when the man replied in German as well.

"That's right, and who might you be?" Cotton asked curiously.

"Alfons Heiderich, sir," Alfons said and offered his hand. "And this is my half-brother, Alphonse."

Cotton nodded and shook both of their hands. "Really, really. So, what can I do for you?"

"I've heard about you from my colleague and mentor, Vato Falman," Alfons explained.

"Oh, you're Falman's co-worker?" The man brightened up. "He has mentioned a young and talented boy, that must be you. How is my friend doing?"

Alfons' eyes darkened. "Sadly, I'm bringing some bad news with me. He was murdered on the day after Christmas."

Cotton's jaw went slack in shock and stared at him for a long time.

"I'm sorry," Alfons said. "I know you were good friends."

"This is quite a shock," Cotton said, coming out of his trance. "Please, both of you come in."

Alfons and Al stepped inside and took off their shoes, and the older man led the way through a hall to the living room. "Just sit down, I'll bring you two some tea."

"Thanks." Alfons sat down in the sofa and Al sat down next to him, still quiet. Alfons noticed a trace of uncertainty in his bronze eyes, but he answered with a reassuring look.

"Don't tell me you two have come all the way from Germany to bring me this sad news?" the man said as he re-entered the living room holding a tray with three cups and a tea pot. "Did you take the boat across?"

"We flew," Alfons said. "And no, that's not the only reason. We've come here to start anew."

"Ah, like so many young Europeans before you," Cotton acknowledged. "Did you go to university in Romania?"

"Yes, together with Alphonse's older brother," Alfons said. "We worked with Falman together."

"I see." Cotton sat down in a chair and poured some boiled water into each of the three cups. "He was a great and intelligent man, Vato Falman. We decided long ago that we would keep my old father's memory alive by developing this special science further, in each part of the world."

"He was like another father to me," Alfons said. "I lost my biological father in the war."

"Tragic," Cotton muttered. "Tragic, indeed. Tell me, how is it working in the field over there now?"

"We were progressing on a new advanced prototype when the sad event occurred," Alfons explained, and added mournfully: "When Falman died, the project stopped."

"That's sad, indeed," Cotton said. "I know it wasn't up to you, but I hope the others will continue that project in Falman's memory."

"Yeah, so do I."

"What are your plans now?" Cotton wanted to know.

"Find somewhere to live here, and a job," Alfons said honestly. "I know it might be difficult because of my origins, but I was hoping you might be able to give me some advice."

"You're right about that," Cotton said. "They don't trust Germans as much as other immigrants. Though, I've been in this field since before the war. I spent the war here in this country. I won't say I wasn't bothered by people's despise against my country, but I accepted it. I knew within myself that I was not a part of it in that way. I was rather helping the States to progress in developing technology that could be used to make the war end and I settled with that."

"I see," Alfons said. Those words didn't actually help him foresee his chances of succeeding in this country as good, but then Cotton continued.

"This field needs talented, young people like you," he said with a smile. "You shouldn't be worried, no matter what country you are from someone will always accept you."

"Thank you," Alfons replied mildly. "I will do my best."

"I'd like you to come with me to my workplace after the holidays, if you'd like," Cotton suggested with a smile. "I'll introduce you to my workers. Maybe that will help as well?"

Alfons visibly brightened up. "You would do that?" That was the best opportunity he would ever have in this country, probably. If he could prove himself and his capability well enough to convince them to hire him, a tiny part of their problems would at least be solved. It was always better to be recommended than to just show up without knowing a soul.

"Of course, lad," Cotton said. "Our craftsmanship is rare, after all, and good rocket engineers are hard to find. It's the least I can do for Vato Falman's memory; make sure that his apprentice moves on."

"Thank you so much, sir," Alfons said gratefully. "Building rockets is the only thing I'm still good at."

"You're welcome," Cotton waved him off. "So, that's settled then. In the meantime, where are you staying?"

"Only at a hotel for now," Alfons answered.

"Oh, that's perfect." Cotton stood up. "Come with me, I have something to show you both."

Wondering what the man was talking about, Alfons and Al followed him out the front door and outside to the front of the house.

"You see, my house is parted in two, one ground floor part, and one separate flat on the 1st floor. I only use the 1st floor as an attic, even if it's well suited for someone to live there. I've been thinking about renting it out for a long time, but I've been too busy to make it ready for that purpose."

Alfons stared at him in shock. "Are you offering us...?"

"For a decent price of course," the man said. "I'm not greedy. I'll offer you a lower price than any other house owners in the central parts of the city."

"You don't have to be so humble, sir," Alfons said. "We have money..."

"That's alright," Cotton brushed him off again. "I'll show you what it looks like up there."

They went up a stair on the outside of the house, on the right shortest wall. There was a separate entrance to the 1st floor above Cotton's flat. He unlocked the door and entered.

Al and Alfons followed curiously after him as he turned on the lights in the ceiling. They came directly into a spacey living room with a wooden floor and a small kitchen counter in the left corner innermost in the room. Everywhere there was old shelves, desks, tables and an old sofa standing around.

"There are two bedrooms," Cotton said. "It needs a bit of work, but I'll leave that to you two. You're free to use anything you want standing around up there. The things you don't need, you can simply put outside in the back yard. I was planning to throw most of it away anyway, I just haven't found the time."

"This is great," Alfons said in awe. "It's exactly what we need. Are you sure it's alright, sir?"

"Of course, lad," Cotton beamed. "And you can call me Oscar, by the way."

"Thank you so much for helping us," Alfons said appreciatively. "All we need to do now is to get our luggage from the hotel room."

"Feel free to do as you like," Cotton smiled and patted them both on each of their shoulders. "If there's anything you need, just ask." He removed the key to the 1st floor from his key chain and handed it to Alfons. "Here you go. I only have one key, but there's a place nearby where you can copy it so Alphonse also can have one."

"That's great. We'll manage with one key for now," Alfons said. "But, how much do you want for rent?"

"We'll talk about that later," Cotton said easily. "You're welcome to eat breakfast at my kitchen tomorrow, we can discuss those kinds of things then. I won't be home tonight though, since it's New Year's Eve after all and I'm invited to a party." He laughed heartedly. "If you want to see the fireworks, my roof is a good spot. You can get up using the fire escape next to the stair by your front door."

Alfons was completely overwhelmed by the kindness of this man. He reminded him a lot of Vato Falman himself. He understood why they had been such good friends. "Thank you so much for everything, Oscar."

"You're welcome!" the older man replied and moved towards the door. "I'll be going back downstairs to get ready for the dinner party. I have some food in the fridge as well if you're hungry."

"We'll manage," Alfons said humbly. "See you tomorrow, sir. I hope you'll have a good time tonight."

"You two, lads!" Oscar said and disappeared down the stairs to ground floor.

Alfons turned to Alphonse with a bright smile. "Isn't this great?"

"Yeah, unbelievable," Al agreed in wonder. "I like this house."

Alfons smiled. "Me too. I'll like it even better when we've cleaned it up though."

"True," Al chuckled.

"Let's go get our suitcases, then we can start cleaning up this place afterwards," Alfons said.

Al nodded. "Alright."

The rest of the day went to getting their things, shopping for some food, beginning to tidy up the apartment, picking beds and watching the fireworks from the roof. Even if it was in an unfamiliar bed, Alfons fell fast asleep late that night.

* * *

It was actually pretty comfy and warm in his new bed. Ever since he came back to his own world, he had never awoken, feeling like this. He took a deep breath, sensing the familiar scent of another person lying next to him in bed, and he drew immediately closer like a magnet. Roused out of sleep, blue eyes opened and blinked a couple of times as he noticed a stack of beautiful golden hair lying sprawled out beside him, hugging around a serene, sleeping face.

Alfons' eyes widened. "Edward!" he breathed out. His hand lifted to touch him, first quick, then slowly, as he would disappear like a ghost if he startled him. Then his hand froze in thin air and his vision cleared.

The one lying next to him wasn't Edward. What Alfons had seen as golden hair, was a shade darker than Edward's, his frame much smaller. Alfons backed off abruptly and performed a clumsy fall out of the bed on the other side of the frame. He landed on the cold floorboards with a loud thud and groaned a bit.

It was then that he remembered. Oh. New Year's Eve had just passed, and after they had watched the fireworks and gone to sleep that night, Al had come into his bedroom.

"_You screamed… in your sleep."_

"_I'm sorry I woke you," Alfons apologized. "You should get back to sleep." _

"_I was already awake," Al said, his gaze averting his. "I can't sleep."_

_Alfons sat up in a more comfortable position and gave the other a weak smile. "I see."_

_Al made no motion to leave. "Can I… sleep here next to you?"_

"_Here?" Alfons stared at him in baffled surprise. "Sure, Al. Of course."_

_Al's copp__er eyes danced back at him again, somewhat lit up. "Thank you."_

The racket of his ungracious fall had made Alphonse stir and sit up in bed, rubbing the drowsiness out of his eyes. "Heiderich? What's going on?"

Alfons climbed a bit awkwardly back up to the edge of the bed and rubbed his aching forehead. "Nothing, it's nothing."

Al stared at him and couldn't help letting out a short giggle. "You fell out?" Then he suddenly looked a bit guilty. "Sorry, did I take too much space?"

Alfons chuckled warmly. "No, you couldn't even if you tried."

If Al had been Edward, he would probably have barked at him for calling him small, but Al simply smiled and rested his head down on the pillow again.

It was the first time he had actually seen Al smile like that since they came to this world, Alfons mused. As he sat up and lay down again to calm down the erratic beating of his heart, he came to think of that familiar presence he had felt in Munich. He had yet to feel it again, and he found himself missing it dearly. It hadn't come to him since that last night in Germany.

He didn't really know what to believe. It had obviously been something ghostly and spiritual; something only his heart could feel. The only thing he knew was that with it came a feeling that warmed and soothed his damaged heart, a feeling so inviting and pure that he would do anything to hold onto it. He hoped it would come back soon.

_Edward, are you __really here somehow? Or was it all in my mind, after all?_

"Are you thinking about something?" Al asked, noticing the distant gaze Alfons provided out in space.

"Actually, I am," Alfons confessed quietly. "It's difficult to explain, but sometimes it's like Edward isn't gone at all. It feels like..."

"... like he's right there," Al finished.

Alfons shifted and stared at Al in wonder. "Do you... feel something too sometimes?"

"I feel it every day," Al said, sitting up in bed again and putting a hand against his heart. "That's how I know he's not really gone." He looked down into the sheets. "There's something I should've told you about sooner. I don't know how much you know already, but..."

"Go on," Alfons urged softly.

"In my world I knew of alchemy that I think is quite uncommon to other alchemists," Al explained. "You know I could transmute a portion of my soul into something else. And here I can somehow recognize this feeling I had whenever I used soul alchemy, especially near full moon. It's like a portion of my brother's soul is resting inside me."

Alfons' eyes widened. "Is that... possible?"

"Theoretically, it could be possible," Al said. His brows formed into a scowl. "What if I actually did this?"

"What?" Alfons whispered.

"What if I drew a portion of my brother's soul out of him and placed it inside the both of us?" The more Al thought about it, the more this _feeling_ he had felt from before made sense. Was that the reason why he could see through his brother's eyes in his dreams?

Alfons swallowed. This wasn't making very much sense to him. Parts of Edward's soul? What did that mean? Wasn't Edward's soul supposed to stay inside _Edward_? Was he really gone forever, after all?

"Why?" he asked, struck by sudden panic. "Why would you do such thing?" He didn't mean to be harsh, but it sounded like a terribly _wrong_ thing to do.

"I'm sure I had my reasons," Al said, putting up a sharp defence. "Please, let me think. I don't think it's hurt him." _He hoped not._ "I'm certain that his voice has been talking inside my heart, calling out to me," Al continued. "At night I often dream about the white space. It's like I see it through his eyes."

Alfons froze a bit. "Me too... I have those dreams too." And what about those times he literally _felt_ Edward being right beside him, and his voice speaking softly and his touch, ghostly as it may be, felt as real as if it had been solid? Could merely a portion of a _soul_ do that?

"It has something to do with the time we were inside the Gate before we came here. My memories are very vague, but I remember my brother reaching out to me while being held back by black hands," Al went on, getting more eager. "There was an act of desperation, where I realized I could..." His bronze eyes expanded as he wrung his mind to force it to show him the memory. "I think I tried to make him follow us to this world. I knew he would try to save us. That's why I infused a small part of his soul into both of us. If we lost him in the Gate, I figured that sooner or later his body would be drawn back towards us. The body and soul always draws toward one another like a magnet."

"I didn't know about this," Alfons whispered. "Edward... is he really...?"

"Alive?" Al stared sharply at him. "Of course he is. If he wasn't alive, we wouldn't have felt his soul like this. My brother's soul is partly here with us, almost like when I was in the armour," Al went on. "Although, I don't know exactly what that means. As I said, it hasn't directly hurt him, but yet he is still suffering. I feel it at night." Al shivered a bit and his brows formed a deep scowl. "There's a deep darkness inside his soul."

Alfons felt his hands shaking and clutched around the quilt by his feet to make them stop. It was _real..._

"It could be only temporary too," Al said. "I don't know how long it will take, but these parts of his soul might disappear on their own and find their way to him, instead of the other part of him finding its way back to _us._"

"This is kind of confusing," Alfons muttered. Now that he knew of this, he was at an even more loss than before. What were they supposed to do about all this?

"Alfons," Al said, drawing his blue-eyed doppelganger to look at him. "Do you still believe that there's no way we can bring him back?"

Alfons swallowed, and silently he shook his head no. "But how?"

"With what we know about my brother's soul, we can make a transmutation on the next prime moon," Al said. "And open the Gate. If we do, the parts of Edward's soul inside us will do all they can to reunite with him. That way, he might have a chance to come back to this world."

_Open the Gate again?_ Alfons shuddered just by the thought of it. But a part of Edward was or had already been right there with them. He was sure of it. It made it hard to keep denying himself; believing that Edward wasn't lost forever and that there really was a way to retrieve him. Maybe the possibility had simply seemed too good to be true? And if it failed, what would happen? Probably something fatal.

Still Alfons finally realized, any risk would be worth it. For Edward, even dying was worth it if he could come back. Maybe Edward actually was able to come back, but only not on his own. They couldn't keep waiting for him to do everything by himself. If there was anything they could do at all, of course they should just do it! Nothing could get worse, right?

All this time he had been standing in his own way of getting back what he wanted. It was time to stop running.

"Let's do it," Alfons whispered. "Let's bring him back."

Al brightened up. "Alfons, you..."

"I'm sorry, Al," Alfons said and looked up, into his deep copper eyes. "Sorry it took me this long to comprehend this idea. I've been too scared to be able to see how amazing you _really_ are. Even inside the Gate, you provided us a chance to get Edward back. Now, we have to use it before it's too late."

Al smiled happily. "Thank you, Alfons." Finally this person understood too. Al would've gone through with it anyway, but now that Alfons Heiderich was approving he felt even more confident. A portion of Edward's soul existed inside them both, so they both needed to stay together.

"I wrote him a letter," Alfons said.

Al regarded him in surprise. "A letter? When?"

"Before we left Munich. If he returns to Munich, he will find it. When he reads it, he'll be the only one who can tell where we are." Alfons smiled resolutely.

Al's big copper eyes shone in the dim light. "You never doubted that he isn't gone forever."

Alfons nodded. "Yes, but you were the one who made me realize it." He was actually starting to look forward to tomorrow. There would be plenty of time to explore this new place, but he felt excited about starting anew. Though, he hoped Edward would stop sleeping and start talking to him again soon.


	9. The Promise

CHAPTER 9: THE PROMISE

The following morning after New Year's Eve Al and Alfons trotted downstairs to the ground floor of their landlord's house to have breakfast. Neil Oscar Cotton was actually an incredibly messy person. Everywhere there were dirty dishes and other mess floating around the house. Alfons was surprised someone would even want to have guests over in a house looking like this. He actually wanted to offer himself to clean for him as thanks for helping them so much, but he figured that might be rude.

And even if the place looked like an old loft, Cotton could cook. The older man had made the table ready with a meal that could've fed ten Edwards, with bread, bacon and eggs, and pancakes with maple syrup.

"Dig in, lads," the man grumbled, showing slight amusement by the surprised expressions on their faces. "You're both still growing, so you better eat a lot."

They settled down by the table and started to eat in appreciation. Al was starving and the pancakes reminded him of home. Winry had often made pancakes for breakfast while he had been living in Resembool. Ironically, that had been when his brother had been in this other world. He was still adjusting to it, though he felt a bit excited to see more of this new place. He was even more excited about the fact that Alfons finally had accepted that he could use alchemy to bring Edward back. And he would.

Al was happy about the prospect of being able to bring Edward back directly to their location. That way he didn't have to worry about Edward not being able to find them once they pulled him out of that white and lonely place. He was eager to start planning out the array, though he would need a special array for this purpose and he wasn't exactly sure _how_ to do it yet. Though, he hoped Alfons could give him every detail he remembered about the time they were inside the Gate. Anything he remembered might be fundamentally important.

All Al could remember was that he had jumped in with his brother, and then their father's soul had showed up, though he didn't remember their conversation. Subsequently it all was just a mad mess of images of his brother and black hands and the Gate. His brother had spoken to him, and he had been upset about what Edward had said. Probably because he had realized that Edward wouldn't come with him to the other world.

Al decided to talk to Heiderich about it as soon as they got the chance.

"So, how are things going up there?" Cotton asked, taking his glasses off and cleaned them on his shirt before putting them on again. "Are you two settling?"

"We're in progress," Alfons answered. "We'll continue cleaning up the living room today. Yesterday we merely concentrated on the bedrooms. It's a very nice place though. We'll be forever grateful to you for offering us to stay."

"Oh, it the least I can do for a fellow rocket scientist. Besides it's a shame that place hasn't been in use for long," Cotton said with a shrug. "So it's really a good thing you arrived. About the price, the average house rent is around 28 dollars per month. I've settled that 12 should be enough."

"12?" Alfons echoed. "Are you sure?" That didn't sound very much at all. Alfons was almost getting suspicious of all his kind hospitality, considering the fact that the previous months he had experienced how people he met only wanted to either use him or kill him. He shuddered a bit, not wanting to think about that sort of things now.

"Of course," Cotton said frankly. "I don't need much money, my business is going well, and I'm glad to help."

"That's very kind of you, sir," Alfons said. "We've been saved for a lot of trouble thanks to you."

The man grinned through a pair of rows of yellow teeth. "The pleasure is mine. Did you watch the fireworks last night?"

"Yeah, we did," Al replied blithely. "They were very pretty."

"Indeed. I was at a party with some of my co-workers," Cotton said conversationally. "And I told them all about your visit last night. They're quite excited to meet you now, Alfons."

"Really?" Alfons quipped.

"Of course," Cotton nodded. "There's nothing to worry about at all. Nothing too formal. I hate such things."

"I'm glad," Alfons said relieved. "Though, I still want to show what I can do."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," Cotton assured. "By the way, I'm curious to know this and sorry for bringing such matters up now, but what happened back in Germany before you left?" His eyes had turned more solemn. "How did Falman lose his life to such crime?"

Al and Alfons paused their eating and gave each other a look. Alfons was unsure how much to tell. But after all Oscar Cotton had already done for them, lying was unacceptable. He just had to take the risk that Cotton wouldn't decide to throw them out in fear for his own life.

"We think he was murdered by someone who is after us," Alfons said austerely. "We don't know exactly who they are, but the reason why Falman was killed might have been... because he was close to us."

Cotton stopped eating as well and frowned at him. "What are you saying?"

"We had to run away," Alfons elaborated, his palms tightening around his fork and knife. "Before anyone else got hurt."

Al had stopped eating entirely and avoided looking at either of them. He felt like everything was his fault. He had been careless considering Dietrich.

"I understand if this might change your view on having us here," Alfons said urgently. "I probably should've told you about it sooner. We don't want to cause any trouble."

"Calm down, this is very upsetting news, but," the older man said with concern, "I wouldn't throw you out for something like that. I don't understand though, is anyone trying to hurt you?"

"I don't know what they want," Alfons half lied. He couldn't start talking about alchemy and other worlds. That would be a bit too much. "Though, even if we don't know exactly what, I think they need something from us which they want to get a hold of."

"Oh my," Cotton mumbled. "They might be interested in your knowledge within aerospace engineering then?"

"Could be," Alfons lied. That wasn't it at all.

"It's a dangerous knowledge," Cotton went on. "Many powerful people would go far to obtain it if they could. You should be careful, Alfons. If your government knew you've moved to America to work in this field without submission, they might come to bring you back to Germany."

Alfons had had so many other things on his mind that he hadn't even considered that possibility. "Is that for real? My intention was never to..." Would they take him for a deserter? He had never even been in the army. That thought reminded him sickly of what Edward had gone through in his own world.

"I know," Cotton said. "But the German government takes nothing lightly after the war. They lost the war and have barely anything left but their brilliant minds of their scientists. If they suspect that you're sharing technology with America that they can use against them, they'll come after you and bring you back to Germany in handcuffs."

"I can't afford that to happen," Alfons mumbled. What about Al...? What would happen to him if the German government found out about this? He tiredly rubbed his forehead. It felt like his head would explode soon. But one thing helped him calm down. "We got help from a friend in the police before we left," he said. "I trust him. He probably won't let anyone find out if he can help it."

"Let's sure hope so," Cotton replied. "Or, you could always apply for American citizenship like I did. It takes some months to get an answer though, but then at least your government can't touch you."

Alfons thought about what he had just said. It felt wrong to do that as well. He would always be German. He couldn't even speak English properly. "I have to think about this. Maybe I can send Hughes a letter and ask him about it." Alfons sighed. "Sorry if we're causing you trouble."

"Not at all, young lad," Cotton said. "I just want you to be aware of how unfair this world can be."

Alfons let out a hollow laugh. "I've experienced some of it already."

Oscar Cotton gave him a grave look. "You both look like you have. Something else is bothering the two of you as well, I can tell."

Al still avoided any sort of eye contact and Alfons drew his eyes away as well. "You're right."

"Go on," Cotton said.

Alfons sighed softly. "We... lost someone else."

"You friend?" the man alleged. He looked at Al. "Your brother?"

Al stared at him in wonder. "How did you know?"

"You mentioned him yesterday," Cotton said. "And it had me wonder why he wasn't with you."

"He isn't dead," Al said fast. "He's just... lost."

Cotton nodded. "You came to look for him here?"

Al nodded. That was a way of saying it.

"I hope you find him," the man smiled a small smile. "I'm sorry, this conversation became awfully grave. Please, eat some more and we'll talk about something more cheerful."

For the sake of politeness, they both forced down another pancake.

After breakfast Al and Alfons returned to work around the apartment. They had still barely even started on the living room and the kitchen. Alfons brushed some dust off the couch, and coughed a bit in reaction. It seemed it hadn't been cleaned for far longer than his old apartment in Munich. Luckily they had borrowed what they needed to clean with from Cotton, so it was just to get started.

"We need to clear out some things we don't need," Alfons began. "We can move a couple of shelves into each of the bedrooms."

"Alfons," Al said, drawing the elder's attention to him. "We're going to bring my brother back, right?"

Alfons faltered by the abrupt change of subjects. "Of course. But what about cleaning up here first so he'll have a decent home to return to?" He smiled.

Al nodded. "M-m. But while we do that, could you tell me more about what happened inside the Gate?"

"Hm." Alfons slumped down into the couch, and Al joined him. "I was unconscious most of the time..."

"My memories are hazy," Al said. "Anything you can tell me about what happened there might be of help to plan out the array."

"There's one thing. Something you never knew about even in Amestris," Alfons said. He got up and picked up a pen and paper from a desk and came back. On the sheet of paper he drew the eye. "This thing got tattooed on your brother's neck. Before, it was on me. There was some kind of exchange where the Gate marked him as its property or something."

Al frowned. "So, it wanted my brother's body?"

Alfons nodded. "I think so. But that is how he switched places with me so I could leave the Gate."

"So, my brother can't leave the Gate as long as he has the mark?" Al construed.

"I don't know," Alfons said, feeling a bit helpless. He hadn't known much at the time the mark was on him either.

"That complicates things," Al mused. "I wonder if I can remove it between the time I activate the transmutation circle and he gets through the Gate."

That sounded complicated, indeed. "Edward figured that the only way of removing the mark was to close the Gates," Alfons said.

"He could be wrong about that," Al said slowly. "It might would've made the mark ineffective for Truth, but not removed it."

Alfons was concerned. Maybe opening the Gate wasn't the main problem they had. Maybe Edward simply _couldn't_ leave because the Gate was tying him down? He had seen Edward's condition in his dreams, and he wanted to cry just by the thought of it.

"I'm not going to give up," Al said resolutely. "There's still two months left until the prime moon. I will work on this as much as I can."

"If I remember anything more that might be of use, I'll tell you," Alfons said, and in that moment, he did. "Actually... wait here for a second." He got up again and stepped into his bedroom. He kneeled down by his suitcase and rummaged through some clothes he hadn't put away yet, the hollow book with the gun and... there it was. He brought it out to the living room again and handed it to Al. The notebook he had found in Van Hohenheim's deposit box. He felt bad for having kept it hidden from Al, but until now he had thought it had been for the best.

"What's this?" Al scowled and opened it, reading through the notes of his father's handwriting. "Could it be...?"

"It belonged to your father," Alfons confirmed.

"I've been looking for a notebook like this!" Al said excitedly. Then he frowned. "Why do you have this?"

"I found it in the deposit box," Alfons said honestly.

"And you never told me?" Al stood up from the couch as well and stared wound up at him.

_Not again..._ "I'm sorry!" Alfons urged. "I didn't want you to use alchemy, remember? But I admit that I was wrong." He tried to calm himself down. "At least I brought it along, right? I _want_ you to use it. But, not without me, okay? We'll do this together."

Al nodded slowly, relaxing again. "Alright. There are no more secrets now, right?"

Alfons nodded as well. "I swear. No more secrets."

Al sighed. He wanted to start studying his father's notes right away, but he had to admit that there was still a lot that needed to be done in the apartment. It would be better to work there when everything was in order, so he decided to join in on clearing off the living room of old junk. It would be faster doing it together, after all.

"I'll start over here," he said and stepped over to some boxes filled with old newspapers and books.

"Alright," Alfons replied. "Gather what we don't need by the door so we can carry it out later."

Alphonse settled down by the boxes, concluding shortly after that there was nothing very interesting in any of them and carried them over to the door. There was a shelf standing next to his bedroom which he moved into his bedroom instead, like Alfons had suggested. He had stuffed so many books he could into his suitcase, and it had been quite heavy to carry as a result, but he considered the effort worth it.

After he had put all the books he had into the shelf, it still looked like a pretty deficient book collection though. He figured he had to do something about that later. He hadn't been in this world for that long, after all. But he considered it important to always have a small library of influential works on a variety of subjects he had all read more than once. As a source of reference. For now, he only had some of his father's books he had found interesting, _This Side of Paradise_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald and the German-English dictionary.

He stepped back into the living room and discovered a new box that had been hidden behind the other ones and the bookshelf. It had a strange-looking tube that reminded him of some kind of megaphone. Curious, Al sat down and explored the content of the box. To his excitement he found out that it was an old phonograph. He had never had one, but he had seen one at Gracia Hughes' place in his own world when he'd visited her and Elicia once.

He lifted the phonograph carefully out of the box and put it on the floor. He blew some dust off the top and gently pushed the pointed arm off the surface. Eager to try it out, Al peered down into the box again and found what he was looking for. There were three records stored in the box. Al picked up the first one, and put the large, black circular disk neatly onto the spool on top of the surface. He settled down the handle down at the disk, pushed the switch, and the disk began to rotate. There was a low noise before a gentle piano tune started playing from the tube.

Alfons drew his attention towards the music. "What is that?" It felt nostalgically familiar.

Al picked up the cover of the record disk. "Fredric Chopin. The song is called _Lullaby_."

"Amazing," Alfons muttered. "Whenever I couldn't sleep, my mom used to play this for me when I was little."

"I like it," Al said with a smile.

"Yeah, we definitely have to keep that," Alfons agreed. "The phonograph works just fine, I wonder why he put it up here."

Al just shrugged and listened to the sound of the playful, but serene piano tune. He could keep listening to it forever. It was like it gave his mind some yearning rest not even a night's sleep could provide, the tunes finding their ways to the inner secret places of the soul. When the melody was finished playing, he only wanted to listen to it again, but decided to wait until later. He wanted to listen to it when he could settle down in his room with his father's books and work on the array.

When the evening came, the apartment started to look much better. They had carried out the things they didn't need and run over the floor with a mop. What was left was a table, the couch, a small kitchen table with three chairs, a desk, a bookshelf and the phonograph placed on a small, round table.

Alfons made them some dinner by the stove, and Al replayed the _Lullaby_-song while they ate.

"It brings back some memories," Alfons commented softly. "She played a lot when my father was away in the war. I think she did it so we both wouldn't feel so lonely. The music brought some peace to our hearts."

"Music is really amazing," Al said. "It's something that can't be created with alchemy. It's an art of its own."

"That's true," Alfons chuckled. As he finished eating, he rose from the table. "Will you manage alone for a couple of hours?"

"Sure, but where are you going?" Al asked.

Alfons shrugged. "I'm just taking a walk. I won't be late."

"Okay..."

Alfons smiled before he stepped to the front door, shrugged on his jacket and left out in the cold evening air. It seemed like things were starting to work out, despite that they had left Germany more or less on a whim. Oscar Cotton's words had made him slightly uneasy, but that wasn't his greatest concern at the moment. Even if things were working out, something had been bothering him deep inside his heart ever since they left.

He couldn't feel Edward's presence anymore.

On several occasions he had tried to relax, close his eyes and listen to that soothing whisper inside him, the ghostly touch against his neck whenever he felt depressed and lonely. But now it was completely absent.

Alfons had never experienced anything more frustrating. He had just learned that this_ feeling_ or whatever to call it was_ real_, that he wasn't _crazy_, and then it had simply disappeared?

It was an amazing and awfully comforting prospect to him. A portion of Edward's soul existed inside him. He could connect to him sometimes, almost feel his touch, and speak to him.

Even if what they said didn't reach "the actual" Edward's mind and body, Alfons still felt more at loss than ever that he wasn't able to feel him anymore. It had been the last sense of Edward he had managed to hold onto. Was he completely gone? Hadn't he come with them to America?

"Where are you?" Alfons whispered as he followed a random street. It had already turned dark being that the wintry days were so short. "Come back. I need to know for sure that you were really there, all this time..."

He had been able to find Al with the help of this connection the night before they left Munich. That had to count for something. Alfons wasn't telepathic. _Edward _had led the way by following his soul frequency. He would never have been able to find Al unless Edward's presence had been there, existing within them both. Alfons needed to see him again. He needed to talk to him. But how? He had no control over when or how Edward showed up. He was always just suddenly there.

Alfons had no idea where he was going. He simply followed the street, passing by a person now and then. It was late already, so not many people were outside. Especially not in this cold night. Boston had the same cold wintery ambience as Munich at this time of the year. Part from that, nothing about this city seemed familiar to him. How did he expect to find Edward here when nothing even reminded him of him?

There was one thing he could do. Alfons didn't know if it would do him good or bad, but the sight of the old Irish pub on the corner of the street seemed too alluring. It was pulling him in by invisible strings. Not much else was open at this hour anyway.

He stepped inside the bar and the cheerful atmosphere hit him like a slap in the face. It didn't really lift his own mood since he didn't know anyone, but he wasn't really here to gain friends either right now. Alfons stalked towards the bar counter and slid onto an available stool.

The bartender immediately noticed him. This seemed like a kind of place that rarely had other visitors than the regular ones. He was a middle aged man and his eyes were of the kind sort. During the last couple of years Alfons had learned how to tell.

"I haven't seen you around here before," the bartender said conversationally. "Can I get you anything?"

Alfons nodded curtly. "One. I moved here yesterday, not far from here."

"You're foreigner," the bartender observed while filling the glass, judging by his awkward accent. "Belgium? Holland?" he guessed, and placed the large mug in front of Alfons.

Alfons regarded the beautiful golden liquid for some seconds. "Germany," he said. He didn't want to lie about where he came from, no matter how much they might hate Germans. He had experienced being hated because of that before, even gotten in a fight. He didn't exactly wish to get in a bar fight, but at least he wouldn't be the one who started it.

"Ah, Germany," the bartender acknowledged. "I can't say I've been there. What's it like?"

Alfons scowled suspiciously at him, but then he realized the man did nothing to judge him whatsoever. "It's... well, I wouldn't recommend it for a holiday right now."

The older man chuckled heartily. "You look like you've been through a lot. Drink up, it's on the house."

Alfons stared at him in surprise, but before he could thank him the bartender went to serve another customer. He just wanted to drink himself into oblivion, and hopefully find back to the small portion of Edward resting inside him again. It had been over a drink he had gotten to know Edward better the first time he had met him, after all. Alfons took a long and healthy swig of his beer.

Was Edward hurt? Right now, nothing frightened Alfons more. He knew Edward was still out there. But the Gate could damage him in ways beyond repair. There was no time to lose. He had wasted away precious time already, just by moping around and mourning. Alfons was angry at himself. Damn it, what if they could've had Edward back already, hadn't it been for his negligence?

Alfons thoughtlessly slammed the empty mug down into the bar counter in frustration, though immediately realized how rude that might have been and muttered an apology.

The bartender laughed heartily and stepped over to him again and addressed the empty mug. "You sure drink like a European."

Alfons made a noncommittal sound in response. "I'll pay for the next one."

The bartender filled up another mug and replaced it with the empty one. "Here you go, son. Allow me to keep guessing. Did you lose family in the war?"

Alfons nodded, slightly amused despite the subject. "I'm guessing you meet a lot of depressed people in this job."

"I meet a lot of talkative people," the bartender said and smirked. "And I like listening to stories."

"I would've told you mine if I knew where to begin and that you wouldn't think I'm crazy if I did," Alfons informed. He took a new hearty drink of the fresh, golden liquid. He would soon need another one. He might not be the most talkative person in the world, though the more he drank the better his English got.

"You don't seem like the crazy type," the bartender chuckled. "You didn't come all the way here from Germany alone, I hope? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Alfons shrugged half-heartedly. "I guess I do. I just... lost her." He'd rather not go into detail about his sexual preferences either.

"That's a shame," the bartender said. "Love is the most important thing in life."

"I'm going to get it back," Alfons said confidently. The second mug was empty and he motioned lazily for another one. "I just don't know where to look yet."

"You're still young," the bartender pointed out, replacing the empty glass. "Someday a girl will be very lucky."

Alfons humbly shrugged while continuing nursing his third beer. He wondered about that. Was Edward lucky to have this pitiful excuse for a boyfriend? Not at all. It might have cost him both his life and sanity. Where he was now, inside the Gate, was the closest thing to hell you could ever be. Alfons had left him there, being useless as always.

And now he was being even more useless, drinking and destroying himself with guilt.

"I'm pathetic," Alfons seethed and ran his palm through his hair. It had grown a bit longer. His cheeks were unshaved. He hadn't thought about that until now. He needed to go to a barber soon. He needed to fix himself. Then he might be worthy enough to get Edward back in the first place.

"Hey son, maybe you should take it easy," the bartender commented. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Hey Andy," a clear female voice said, stepping up next to Alfons. "The usual."

"Coming right up."

"Fresh meat?" she deduced playfully, regarding Alfons up and down.

Alfons flushed a bit, completely clueless when it came to this sort of encounter with a woman. She was tall and pretty with large breasts and had long, light brown curls of hair.

"He's cute!" another female commented and showed up on his left. "You look lonely, sweetheart." She smiled charmingly.

"Shut up, Rosemary, I saw him first," the first girl crowed.

"Aw, let him choose then," Rosemary returned wickedly. Her hand touched Alfons' arm, lightly brushing up his shoulder.

"Uh..." Alfons said. So light these touches were. He would never have gotten used to something soft like that. He wanted metal. He wanted firm and hard touches, the rawness and the roughness as they tugged and fisted his shirt.

"In that case, let him be with a real woman and not a little brat like you," the first woman said and her hand landed on Alfons' thigh.

Alfons jumped a bit in surprise and was about to decline as politely he could, as he was saved by the bartender.

"Leave that one alone, he's not in the mood for you today," the bartender said.

Both of the girls made a disappointed moan.

"Oh well," Rosemary chirped. "Next time then, cutie."

Alfons smiled a bit timidly in return and quickly went back to the drinking as the women found someone else to flirt with. He had to pull himself together. He needed to fix himself up and find Alphonse a good school. Yes, that was his next priority. Edward would come back to him when he deserved it, right? Edward wouldn't like to see how pathetic he was right now anyway.

"I hate being like this," Alfons muttered, speaking more to himself than anyone else. He didn't know if the bartender was still listening or not. "I don't have the right to be like this. It's my fault and I've done everything worse."

Maybe Edward's soul didn't visit him because he was disgusted with him? That was kind of hard to believe, even in Alfons' current condition. Despite it all, he and Edward had been happy together, right?

_Weren't we?_

"_Of course we were, you idiot, and we still are. You're such a dumbass!"_

Blue eyes widened fractionally. Golden hair reflected from the nearly empty mug of beer, like Edward was sitting right at the same spot as him.

"Edward!" he gasped, though the reflection turned back to be simply his own.

"What did you say?" the bartender asked confused. Apparently he still had his attention somewhat pointed at him.

"Sorry, I have to go," Alfons said fast. "Thank you for the drink." He left a 10 dollar bill on the counter and ran out the bar.

As he came out in the snowy streets, the world circled a bit in his vision, but he quickly adjusted to it. As his vision cleared, he took a deep breath and listened to his own beating heart. Edward had been there just now.

"Come back," he whispered. "Don't leave me."

"_I won't,"_ Edward said gently. His presence brushed against Alfons' palm, and Alfons jerked his eyes down at his hand, seeing a familiar metal one lacing in with his fingers. Slowly, the rest of Edward's presence emerged in front of him, like he had been the night before they left Munich.

Unshed tears welled up in Alfons' eyes. "Where have you been? I was worried about you, stupid!"

"_I'm sorry."_ Edward's invisible form stepped close and hugged him. _"I was unable to reach you for a moment. It's not your fault."_

Alfons dried his sore eyes and leaned into him in a sense of holding him closer, ignoring how strange that might look like to people close by. "I'm sorry for being this pathetic," he slurred out. "I miss you. I promise, I'll bring you back."

He was drunk. No doubt about it. Though, he didn't care because Edward was there.

"_Let's go home,"_ Edward said. _"You're cold."_

Alfons nodded and trailed off with some uneven steps. The ground seemed to be waving like an ocean, which made it terribly annoying to walk on. Maybe he had drunk those three beers a bit too fast.

"I know you're real," he assured Edward. "Al made me realize. You're a part of Edward's soul. Al infused it with ours so we wouldn't lose you. We're going to get you back."

A man he bypassed gripped after him and spoke, but Alfons ignored the words and shoved him off and continued walking.

"_Alfons, just think about yourself for a change,"_ Edward said with concern. He walked next to him and looked like he wanted to grip after him each time Alfons swayed dangerously to the side. _"You need to get to bed, you stupid drunkard."_

"Sorry," Alfons grinned. "Once you said drinking helped you remember your world while you were here. I thought that maybe drinking would make you come back." What kind of stupid and irrational piece of logic was that? He didn't care, it had worked.

"_I don't know why I couldn't reach you,"_ Edward said, scowling thoughtfully. _"But I think the Gate is trying to prevent that we meet like this. It doesn't want my soul to come close to you."_

Alfons frowned, feeling suddenly mere rage towards the Gate and Truth or whatever the hell was controlling their lives. "The Gate can go screw itself!" he grated and stumbled a bit.

"_Don't think about that for now,"_ Edward groaned. _"Just get yourself home already."_

Alfons knew, if he stumbled and hit his head on the sidewalk now, there wasn't anything Edward could actually do about it even if he wanted to. He lifted his gaze up ahead, noticing the familiar street that was now his new home.

"Did you see our house yet?" Alfons said softly.

"_Yeah, it's nice,"_ Edward said. _"I like the phonograph. Al played some Chopin while you were away."_

"He likes Chopin," Alfons agreed. After a couple of minutes he reached the stairs and hugged around the icy banister to keep himself up. The stair seemed endlessly long and he ended up on his butt by the foot of the stairs, contently leaning back and closed his eyes in the soft snow. "I'm just going to rest here for a bit," he murmured sleepily. It was a bit cold, but he hardly felt it.

"_Alfons,"_ Edward groaned frustrated. _"Alfons, get up, you can't just lie here!" _With a sigh, he merged inside the house and found his little brother sleeping peacefully, curled up on the couch among their father's books.

"_Al,"_ Edward said and carefully stroked his long bangs back from his face, rousing him out of sleep.

"Brother?" Al murmured.

"_I'm sorry to wake you, but I need you to do me a small favour,"_ Edward said.

Al looked up at the ghost of his brother's soul, smiling a little. "What is it?"

"_You're hereby at liberty to kick Alfons in the ass and drag him up here by his ear,"_ Edward stated, his arms crossed.

Al stared at him in wonder, and then hurriedly got up from the couch in mild concern. He stepped into his boots and opened the door to the stairs outside. At the bottom of the stairs, Alfons was resting drowsily, his breathing misting in the air above his serene face.

Quickly, Alphonse stepped down to him and shook him. "Alfons?"

Alfons didn't reply and simply twisted away to avoid being disturbed.

"Seriously," Al muttered. "Brother was right this time." He grabbed Alfons' wrist and dragged him up in sitting position, ignored the complaining sound from the older, and hooked his arms under his armpits and started to drag him up the stairs. "What made you think _that_ was a good place to sleep, really?" Al groused. Halfway up he had to take a break, but kept holding onto him in fear that Alfons would simply tumble down the stairs if he let go. "You're such an idiot."

"I know..." Alfons slurred. "Sorry." He blinked a bit and groaned.

"Get up," Al urged, relieved that Alfons wasn't unconscious. "It's freezing out here and I forgot to close the door."

"It's alright," Alfons smiled and managed to get up on a couple of unsteady feet.

Al kept holding onto him and brought his arm over his shoulder while pulling him further, putting the rest of the way up the stairs behind them and closed the door to the living room behind them both. With a sigh, he kicked off his shoes and made sure Alfons got off his, and supported him through the living room to Alfons' bedroom and dropped him into bed.

Alfons snuggled into the covers and sighed contently.

Edward stood over the bed and smiled before turning to his brother. _"Thanks, Al."_

"No problem," Al said with a half smile. "Goodnight, Brother." He turned off the lights and did the same in the living room before lying down to sleep in his own bed. He was glad Edward's soul had come back to them both. Now they only needed to get back the rest of him...

He felt Edward's warm presence lying down next to him and smiled. "I can't wait."

"_Can't wait for what?"_

"To hold you like this." Alfons put his arms around Edward's back and pulled him in for a kiss.

Edward smiled as well. _"I'm glad you believe in me."_

"We've been through too much," Alfons whispered. "I can't lose you."

"_You won't. And I want to do this again as well,"_ Edward said, his flesh hand trailing over Alfons' chest and stomach. _"I want to feel you with my flesh."_

The feel of the ghostly touch made his breath quicken and body stretch out on the bed, letting Edward lie down on top of him and seal his lips with his. Alfons ran his hands through Edward's long, golden hair, the feel of it tickling between his fingers. It wasn't solid, but he still felt something there. It was incredible, this feeling of something so spiritually divine.

"As soon as you're back, I'm never letting you go," Alfons whispered.

"_Same here. Even if I come back, no one else shall be sacrificed,"_ Edward stated. _"Least of all you."_

"I won't. I won't leave you alone," Alfons whispered. "I know how it is now. It's too painful without you. If you would feel anything like this without me, I'll never die before you, because I don't want you to feel anything like that."

"_I'm sorry,"_ Edward said, guiltily bowing his head down until their foreheads touched. _"I didn't mean to put you through that."_

Alfons smiled softly and closed his eyes. "Hopefully it'll be over soon."

Edward leaned down to kiss him again while fisting the front of his white shirt the way Alfons liked. The kiss was like a bond linking their souls, sensed through the heart. Soft and gentle at first, then it turned more intense and electric. He parted his lips and felt a tongue enter eagerly, cording with his.

"_It's not going to be over,"_ Edward murmured softly. _"We'll finally start to live."_

Alfons didn't even have words for how badly he wanted that. They had started living, but they hadn't started their lives yet. Too much had always been missing. But soon...

Edward's soul was discarding his clothes one by one, and Alfons did the same. First his shirt, then his pants and shorts. He gazed up at Edward as he lied back, at Edward's naked soul, drinking in the sight. It looked like he was glowing. His lover curved down to him again and ghostly lips brushed his mouth, throat and collarbone, blanketing him with his golden form.

"You're so warm," Alfons whispered fondly. He became lost in the memory of the weight of Edward's head resting on his chest, every time his ear had been contently placed against his beating heart, as Edward's hands slid against his skin, the flesh hand's fingers finding a nipple and rolling the soft nub under a thumb until it hardened, the other trailing playfully over his belly, very close to his bare arousal. Alfons's skin crackled under Edward's hands like heat of colourful fireworks flashing across the sky on New Year's Eve.

As their kiss deepened, Alfons's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. It had never felt so out of control, so insistent on making him take measure of the very fact that he was alive. But even with no body, this was still Edward; his soul catching silver light from the half-moon shining through the bedroom window, making his appearance blaze like the sun. He was the spark lightening any darkness inside Alfons' heart, igniting life itself and all of the passions and desires that made life worth living.

As Edward straddled his lap, Alfons sat up so their chests could still touch, so their lips could still merge. As their groins connected, Alfons's longing was a flashing burn that travelled down the length of his spine and erupted from his mouth as a quiet moan. Edward lowered himself onto him in one, slow motion as Alfons guided himself into him. His breath quickened a bit.

When Edward started moving, Alfons wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a kiss while bucking up against him. Their bodies slithered and poured against each other with the same tender ferocity as rapids caressing a solid rock face; a gentle force that would forever carve and shape the landscape of the world.

Alfons's eyes flashed open, a well of need, desire, and dependence that sent him hurtling toward release and by God, he had just made love to Edward's soul tonight.

He collapsed back on the bed with Edward resting on top of him, both of their chests rising and falling in swift motions.

"_I love you, Alfons,"_ Edward whispered inside his heart.

Alfons felt a surge of emotion well in his throat, the months of self-doubt, encounters and abuse they had fought together. Battles they had both won and lost. The promise to protect one another. It had only been bound to become a broken promise. In the end Edward had managed to protect him, but because of that, Alfons hadn't been able to protect Edward.

Alfons closed his eyes by the echoing thoughts that never seemed to leave him alone unless he spoke them out loud.

"I want to make a new promise," he whispered in the dark. "One that both of us can keep. I will get you back, and when I do, we're going to protect each other. But that also means protecting ourselves, so the other won't be alone."

"_Deal,"_ Edward murmured.

"If we can't," Alfons continued, "I'll go wherever you go, whether it is Heaven or Hell, or even the Gate." His eyes fluttered open and he held his breath, his tears falling unchecked, because this was all he had to offer. A pledge of his body, his heart, and his soul as the only things in the world he truly owned and the only things he could promise to Edward with any sense of certainty.

"_Okay."_ Edward's lips brushed his neck. _"I'll be waiting."_

Alfons slowly let his eyes drift shut again, feeling complete by the warmth of Edward's presence that was still blanketing him. It took him only a few seconds to be drawn into deep sleep.

Though, as much as he enjoyed sleep, his mind got trapped inside the despair of the white space as soon as he put his mind to rest. Alfons frowned at his surroundings. This had started to happen more and more frequent lately. It scared him.

The large eye emerged before him and black hands laced around his body, trapping him and twining around his limbs. Around _Edward's _limbs. Alfons shuddered from his safe stance inside Edward's heart.

_You're not making me very pleased_, it said warningly. _If your soul keeps being disobedient towards me, I'll have to punish you._

"Go ahead, bastard," Edward snarled. "I'm not afraid of you."

Alfons got struck by sudden concern. Punish? He didn't want Edward to get hurt.

In an instant, Edward's arms were forced up into deviant angles, making him hang dangling in the air, held by the black monsters swirling themselves around his body like snakes. A loud scream erupted from Edward's throat as his arms got twisted further.

"Edward!" Alfons cried, desperation settling in his very soul. "No, stop! Don't hurt him!"

Edward breathed a bit sharply in realization of Alfons' presence inside him. "Alfons... Don't worry about me. This is nothing... he won't do me anything serious."

He hadn't even said it before two black arms shot forward and buried themselves into his stomach, making him abruptly gag after his lost breath and cough up some blood. Crimson splattered onto the white ground from his abdomen.

"EDWARD!" Alfons screamed. Even if he was sleeping, this was _not _only a nightmare. This was really Edward's body, his mind and his soul. Unlike the presence of Edward who would visit him sometimes, this Edward would remember that Alfons had spoken to him. But that also meant, this pain was real too.

Edward's lips moved, but he was unable to utter any sound. He writhed a bit in agony as the two black hands abruptly pulled back out of his abdomen. To Alfons' surprise, the black hands left no wound. But he had felt Edward's pain. It had been sharp and close to unbearable. He realized, in some bizarre way, Truth was hurting Edward, letting him feel the pain of it, but then instantly healing the wound.

Edward breathed out sharply again, blood trailing from his mouth and twisting his captured arms, but to no avail. "Alfons, get out of here."

_No, stay Alfons Heiderich, for a little bit longer,_ it said._ So you become completely aware of that your beloved isn't safe. Neither are you. I will keep hurting him if he keeps visiting your soul. You wouldn't like that, would you?_

Alfons shuddered and regarded the eye through the window of Edward's eyes in terror.

Abruptly, the black hands shot forwards once again, impaling Edward's abdomen and sending a new splatter of blood on the ground. Alfons cried out like it had been_ him_ who had been stabbed. It felt like his soul was shattering in agony and despair. "Stop, stop, stop..." he whispered and clutched his eyes shut.

_I could twist and pull out his insides if you want, I could let him bleed out to his last second of life ebbing out of him before I reverse the torture._

Edward gritted out a frustrated cry of pain that made Alfons' heart scatter.

"Why?" he whispered. Why was Truth doing this to Edward?

_Why not? Because I can, puny human._

"Alfons..." Edward gasped. His wound hadn't been healed this time, and he was forced to see his own blood well out of his stomach. Though, he tried to ignore it. "I don't really know what the hell is going on here," he breathed out sharply. "But I don't care; as long as it keeps pissing this bastard off, I'm fine with it."

"Edward, you idiot," Alfons whispered, feeling his soul cry of absent tears which he needed an own body to provide. "Hold on, Edward. We'll rescue you soon!" His voice raised into a flustered yelling before his beloved could even _start_ protesting against him. "And don't you DARE think we won't do it!"

The second after he woke up with a scream, tears running down his cheeks, and Edward's presence was gone.


	10. First Day

CHAPTER 10: FIRST DAY

There was no way in hell he would be able to sleep again, let alone lie down. A few seconds after the uncomfortable wakeup call, Alfons was walking back and forth from one wall to another inside the small bedroom. A few seconds after _that_ Al barged through the door with an agitated look on his face.

Alfons stopped abruptly and just stared at him for a moment. Had he felt something as well? He was afraid to ask. Right now he was too panicked to even speak.

"What happened?" Al asked fast. His shoulders were shaking a bit. "I didn't see anything, but I felt my brother's pain. It was like he was..."

_Impaled?_

Alfons swallowed and noticed his own ragged breathing, how heavy and soundly it was. Abruptly he strode right towards Al, his hands grappling tightly around his shoulders and stared at him with eyes full of dread. Al almost backed away from him in disturbance, but Alfons kept him from moving.

"Are you sure alchemy doesn't work right now?" Alfons asked hoarsely, his voice desperate. "We have to get him out of there _now_! Truth is killing him! He's being tortured! I can't stand this anymore! We have to _do something_!"

Al's large caramel eyes narrowed in quiet despondency, and he somehow understood what Alfons had seen even if he couldn't really imagine it. He didn't even want to imagine. Edward's presence had disappeared again. He had to calm Alfons down in some way, but no matter how much he wanted to, alchemy wouldn't work now.

Slowly he lifted his hands and placed them on top of Alfons' hands on his shoulders, quietly dropping his gaze. "I wish we could do it now, but we have to wait." Alfons' hands were shaking, and Al tightened the grip on them, as to prevent them from trembling. "We have to believe in Brother," he said. "He's strong, he can handle it. I don't think the Gate wants to hurt him physically."

"But what about his mind? I'm already going crazy, and I'm not the one who's being held in there," Alfons snapped. He sank to his knees and let go of Al's shoulders to support himself on his palms on the floor. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Al kneeled and seated down in front of him while taking a deep breath. "Brother can hear our voices sometimes during these bizarre dreams. We're able to see him because we're linked to the frequency of his soul. Whenever that happens, we can let him know we haven't given up on him. That will only make him stronger."

Alfons nodded. "I know. I tried. He probably doesn't want us to do it, but it'll be better than not doing anything."

"Exactly." Al sent him a timid smile. "And I'll work hard on the array so it'll be ready for the next prime moon. We're going to get him back."

The words were comforting and they soothed down Alfons' slamming heart. Yes, he believed in Edward. But right now he believed in Al even more. He was the only one who could bring Edward back. "Edward said something to me tonight," Alfons said. He suddenly remembered it more clearly now that he was more sober. "He said Truth is trying to keep his soul from connecting with us. That's why he was..." _being tormented._

"Truth is using pain to keep Brother's soul in shack," Al deduced. "It makes it harder for him to connect with us."

Alfons clenched his fists. As much as he liked to have Edward's soul within him, they couldn't take any unnecessary risks. "Next time his soul shows up," he whispered, "we have to tell him to stop coming here. It only makes things worse."

Al nodded in agree. "I'll tell him if I see him."

"Which day?" Alfons asked tightly. _How long did they have to wait? How long did they have to let Edward suffer?_

"February 21st," Al said. "52 days. It's on a Friday."

A little less than two months. To Alfons it might as well could've been years away. It sounded like an eternity. But until then he would stay put and keep himself contained. It didn't matter that Edward had told him not to try getting him back. They were going to pull him out of there alive whether he'd like it or not.

* * *

In the days that followed Alfons didn't see or hear anything of Edward's soul, and neither did Al. Alfons hoped he was alright and that it was a good sign that they didn't see anything of him. At least he hopefully wouldn't get hurt further. He had borrowed Oscar Cotton's phone and called the nearest high school to apply Al for a class. The school sent him back an application form to fill out and a couple of days later they got a reply that Al could start at the high school the day after tomorrow. It was the first official school day after the holidays, and now that it was so close Al started getting excited and nervous.

Alfons felt partly the same as well as he would be going with Cotton to work on the same day, and if everything went smoothly he'd might get himself a job there too.

The day before they spent walking around the city and finding the necessary school stuff Al would need. Al practised to get used to talking English instead of German which was the language he had gotten used to. But Alfons noticed he didn't seem to have any problems with grammar or pronouncing the way he had.

As the first day of school arrived, Al felt like this was when his exploration of this new world would really begin. He didn't know much of this world's history and geography yet, and even if he hadn't liked the thought of staying here at first, he knew he would never be able to return to his own world again. He might as well get used to it. Exploring a new world was interesting after all. In some strange way he could consider himself lucky that he got the chance to do something like that.

Still he couldn't help the nervous feeling of small butterflies wrecking havoc inside his stomach as he and Alfons stopped outside the main gate to the high school. They had walked for about 20 minutes to get there, but Al was glad Alfons had bothered following him in case he had gotten lost.

"Good luck today, Al," Alfons said. "I'm sure you'll do just fine even if you come in the middle of the freshmen year."

Al nodded tensely. "Good luck to you too. I hope you get the job."

"So do I." Alfons sighed a smile. "See you later then."

"Yep, bye!" Al trotted through the open gate with a wave and his bag over his shoulder, and soon he found himself in the middle of a mob of several other students (where most of them raged above him in height). They chattered away and he politely snuck past them towards the main entrance of the school building. He had been told to announce his arrival at the reception desk on the seventh floor.

The school seemed to be bigger than he had imagined. It had been years ago since he had even been inside one. He had gone to school with Edward when they were kids, but after their mother died and they decided to bring her back, they had both stopped going. Instead they had gone into training with Izumi Curtis. Al doubted he would ever have any other teacher that would be tougher than her, so he wasn't very worried about that.

After following an endless hall for a while, Alphonse found an elevator. Some other students were waiting outside it and as it opened he slipped inside after all the others. It was a bit narrow and he felt some strange looks at his back where he stood. He didn't just appear to be at least two years younger than the most of them, he literally felt different from them simply because he had never been at a high school before, and in that sense felt like an alien from another planet.

Most of the students went off in the fifth, and he stood alone in the elevator for the remaining floors. He stepped out and found a transparent door which seemed to be the right one. It was open, so he stepped inside and came into a reception room next to a long hall of doors that he guessed were offices.

"Can I help you?" a woman behind the reception desk asked, addressing him.

Al turned to her and turned on a small smile. "Yes, thank you. My name is Alphonse Elric, I'm new."

"Oh, I heard that there was a new student coming in today," she acknowledged. "The Headmistress would like to see you first."

Al just nodded nervously. He had always imagined the principal at big schools like this to be close to invisible and hardly have any interact with the students, but maybe he was mistaken. He had no clue what to expect to be normal in this world. He just hoped he knew enough to _not_ make a fool out of himself. He had something to prove by being here, after all, being that he looked four years younger than he actually was.

"I'll show you the way," the receptionist said. "Just follow me."

"Thank you," Al replied.

He followed her far down the hall, almost innermost in the corridor, to a door with a sign on it. Al read the sign in quiet wondering recognition. _O. M. Armstrong, Headmistress._ He let out a relieved sigh. If the principal of this school was the parallel person of the Strong Arm Alchemist, Louis Armstrong, he had nothing to be worried about. That man would never hurt a fly, even less able to be strict. Unless parallel people had complete opposite sides as well, but so far he hadn't experienced that.

The receptionist knocked on the door. "Headmistress, the new student is here."

"Let him in," a firm female voice replied, which made Al start a little. That was definitely nothing akin to the kindness he would normally find in Alex Louis Armstrong's voice.

The receptionist opened the door and beckoned Al inside in front of her.

"Thank you, Clara, I'll take it from here," the strict voice said.

Al lifted his eyes, seeing a tall and pale woman with long blond hair and icy blue, narrow eyes. Her back was completely straight, like he might as well have been an officer in the army. And she looked tough. Al started to wonder about his own reasoning that there might be tougher women out there than his old teacher.

The receptionist left and the principal strode around her desk to get a closer look at Al. "My name is Olivier Mira Armstrong and I am, as you can already tell, the Headmistress of this school. You will address me as ma'am or Headmistress, is that understood?"

Al straightened a bit as well. "Yes ma'am," he said fast and rambled out the rest of his words. "My name is Alphonse Elric, it's nice to meet you, ma'am."

She raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused by the words and shook his hand hard, though Al managed to hold back the pained whimper.

She strode back to her desk as she spoke. "I understand that you've just moved here from Germany; tragic place. Your English isn't too bad, I'll give you that. If you're going to survive here at this school, you must study hard, be like everyone else and not stick out too much." She sat down and gestured toward a chair in front of her desk for Al to sit down.

Al almost missed the compliment about the English in the direct way she was speaking as he sat down on his offered chair, and never got a chance to thank her before she continued.

"I was informed of your age and you look obviously younger than my average students, but I trust for your own sake that it won't be a problem for you even if you're stepping into the second half of the freshman year. You think you'll be able to keep up?"

Al realized it was a question and nodded fast. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she replied pleasantly. "I hate pitiful failures and drop-outs. The fools. Someone always ends up in that hole, but most of them deserve it. If you don't work hard, you won't get any credit from me by passing you over to the next stage in life, either it's work or college. It's not supposed to be easy."

Al swallowed down a nervous bubble in his throat and kept quiet. She was definitely similar to his teacher in many ways, even if they weren't parallel people.

"I'm not the headmistress of this school for nothing," Olivier Mira Armstrong went on coldly. "This school is one of the best in this imprudent country and I ought to keep it that way. Any form of foolishness or indecent behaviour will not be tolerated under any circumstances and will be strictly punished, am I making myself clear?"

Al nodded fast. "Yes, ma'am." He had this awful feeling that he had done something bad, even if he knew this speech was probably standard procedure for everyone who started at the school. He wouldn't let himself get whipped off his feet by that.

"I also understand that your only guardian is your older brother, is that correct?" Olivier interrogated.

Al nodded again. "Yes, ma'am."

"Then why are your last names different?" she asked.

Al faltered a bit. "Uhm... We're more like half-brothers."

"I see." She accepted that explanation. "Enough chitchat. I will follow you to your class now, it's on the ground floor. Please follow me."

Al rose fast from his chair as she got up and strode back to the door again. As they walked down the corridor towards the elevator she kept speaking in the direct tone.

"You'll receive a time table, a number of a locker when you get to class and a list of classes to choose as an alternate subject. You must pick one; two if you want to earn some extra points. Your books are stored in your locker and you're responsible to take care of them until the year is over. If you damage them, you'll have to replace them."

That was fair enough. Al figured he had to try not to read them _too_ much.

"There's lunch at noon for half an hour, and you get small periods of five minutes between your classes. Always be on time, or you'll fail in your order marks. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am," Al said.

"Good," Olivier said.

Eventually they stopped in front of a door on the ground floor and Al had lost his track of the direction of the main entrance long ago. He hoped he would get to know someone who could show him around more properly.

The Headmistress knocked firmly on the door and then strode inside without waiting for a response.

The teacher was a small, corpulent man with glasses that Al couldn't resemble with anyone he knew from his own world. He looked surprised to get interrupted by the principal herself. "Oh, good morning, Headmistress Armstrong," he greeted. He stared questioningly at Alphonse who lingered hesitantly in the doorway.

"I see you haven't been informed about the new student," Olivier Armstrong deduced. "Those administrative fools are hopeless. They keep reminding me without trying that things get done better if I do them myself." She huffed. "Well, here he is." She turned to Al and waved him towards her, and hesitantly Al stepped inside the classroom, feeling more misplaced than ever.

A whole sea of dull eyes stared at him, some with interest, and others in quiet surprise. The class was pretty big. Al directed his eyes mainly at the teacher again, who looked more surprised than anyone else.

"No, I wasn't aware of that there would be a new... student." He stared at Al like he was unsure if he was really a high school student and not a middle schooler, and Al felt a bit offended. He kind of understood his brother's feelings every time he was considered short now.

"I have other matters to take care of, so I trust him to you, Mr. Redman," Olivier said shortly. "Good day." Then she turned on her heel and strode back out of the classroom, leaving Al feeling awfully vulnerable.

"Oh well," Mr. Redman said slowly and stared uncertainly at Al. "Welcome to class 1B. You may introduce yourself while you're standing up here."

Al cast a look over the sea of heads again, some of them looking a bit more awake now than a few moments ago. He cleared his throat a bit, hoping his voice wouldn't fail him. "My name is Alphonse Elric, I recently moved here from Germany."

"Germany?" Mr. Redman echoed. "That's quite far. Well, there's an available seat for you over there since one of the class is sick today. We can arrange a new desk for you later."

Al nodded politely and stepped towards the empty chair a few rows behind the first row to the left of the teacher, his bag still resting over his shoulder. Eyes followed him closely as he moved and slipped down on his chair. Next to him sat a raven-haired girl with a pair of long pigtails and big black eyes, but she smiled brightly at him and he felt a bit relieved. The stares he got were unmistakably curiosity at the most, which he could understand.

"So, Alphonse, just hang on as well as you can. If you have any questions, just ask," Mr. Redman said. "I'm currently teaching English, which might be especially useful to you. I could hear on the way you pronounce some of the words that you're not from an English-speaking country. That's natural, of course. Okay class, go to page 87. We're going to read out loud in turn, staring from the left."

Al didn't have a book and stared a bit concerned at the person a few rows in front of him who started to read. What would he do when it was his turn? The teacher didn't seem to be aware of that he didn't have any books yet, and Al wished he had asked the principal to stop by his locker before he started class. Then the girl next to him suddenly reached out and put her book on his desk in front of him, and Al sent her a thankful look in return. He managed to find the right place in the text where the next student had started reading. It went so fast he almost didn't have time to be nervous before it was his turn, and he read his paragraph in the way that felt most natural to him. He got corrected on a few words by the teacher, but to his relief no one laughed at him for his mistakes.

He handed the book back to the girl so she could read her part when it was her turn. The lesson went surprisingly fast and when the bell rang people began rising from their seats to prepare for the next class.

Al rose slowly and turned to the girl next to him. "Excuse me," he said.

She turned to him and smiled just as cheerfully as before. She looked foreign too. "Hello!"

"Could you tell me where we're going next? I haven't gotten a time table yet," Al explained.

"Sure! I've made an extra one you can have if you want," she offered, beaming.

"Thank you, that'd be great."

She smiled again and handed him a very colourful time table full with pink and yellow flowers. He wondered if it might be best to copy it into a more _neutral_ time table later. According to the table, the next subject was history.

"It's the same classroom?" Al read, but asked to be sure.

"That's right," the girl said in her chirpy voice. "I see you don't have any of your books yet, but I'm sure you'll get the key to your locker soon!"

"Yeah, probably," Al said, smiling back. She looked like she was from a completely different part of the world, though Al was too shy to ask. He didn't want to say anything that might sound rude. He was glad to notice she was one of few who didn't rage above him in height. She was petite and her hair was long and so black it could easily go in one with a moonless sky.

"What's your name?" Al asked her and sat down again as well. There was no point going to a locker without a key, after all.

"I'm Mei. It's nice to meet you, Alphonse!" She bowed politely, and Alfons was under the impression that bowing might be normal where she came from, while it wasn't in America. He bowed back anyway. "It's nice to meet you too."

As she straightened up again, something moved inside her shirt and a small head stuck out from the neck of her shirt. Mei gasped. "No, Xiao Mei, you know you're not allowed to come out during school!" She beckoned the little animal back, but the little one was stubborn and in the end it succeeded to climb into her hands and refused to let go. Mei chuckled a little.

Al looked at it in surprise. The animal looked like a kitten, but it was black and white like a tiny panda. It was undeniably adorable. "What is that?"

"Xiao Mei is a panda," Mei confirmed with a happy nod. "I think she wants to make sure you're not an unpleasant person. But I can see that you aren't." She beamed brightly again.

"Ah," Al leaned closer in wonder and carefully reached his finger out to touch it. He regretted it as soon as Xiao Mei bit him.

"Ouch!" That thing had pretty strong teeth.

"Oh no, bad Xiao Mei! Don't bite our new friend," Mei scolded. "I'm really sorry. She's just very protective!"

"It's alright," Al chuckled and blew on his finger. "No worries!"

Mei's ebony eyes regarded him for a moment before sitting down to rummage around her bag. "Hold on a sec!" she said. The little panda climbed up on her shoulder and regarded Al warily for a moment, before turning its attention back to what Mei was doing.

She picked up a bunch of cards from her bag and started shuffling them in her hands. Al wondered what those were for and watched curiously as she spread the cards over her desk in a half-circle, closed her eyes and let her hand trail over each one.

Interested, he leaned a bit closer, wondering if she was doing some sort of this world's 'magical' card tricks. Even if it wasn't real, it was still fun to watch.

In the end Mei seemed to decide on a card and picked it up. She turned it around and stared at it for a couple of moments without a word. The card seemed to have some sort of picture on it, and didn't seem to look like normal playing cards with symbols and numbers. It still reminded Al about the time he had used to play poker with his brother on their long train rides during their journey, and how Edward would always cheat to win.

Al was dying to ask what the card meant, when she suddenly turned back at him with a knowing smile. "Are you really from Germany?"

"Uh," Al said hesitantly and answered vaguely. "I came here from Munich."

"Oh right." She went back to her cards and put the one she had picked back into the half circle.

"What are those cards?" Al asked.

"Tarot cards," Mei replied. "It can be fairly useful sometimes!"

"Why do you use the cards?" Al asked.

"I don't know. Either it's nature or an obsession of some sort." Mei shrugged, still cheerful at that. "But people don't believe much that the cards can tell the truth. I don't always know if they're true either, but I guess it's a matter of understanding and not seeing."

"I suppose so," Al said. "Not everyone is always open-minded to things that are a bit different." His thoughts fell on how Alfons had first tried to prohibit alchemy from him.

"Exactly," Mei smiled. She seemed like she was always smiling.

As someone stepped past her chair, they 'accidentally' bumped into her shoulder and swept the half of the cards off the desk. Xiao Mei looked ready to jump at the guilty person's throat and hissed.

"Oops, sorry," the guy grinned.

Al rose abruptly with a frown, sensing the antagonistic manner and was immediately on alert. "Watch where you're going, please."

"What, middle-schooler midget, you're looking for a fight?" the guy egged on. "If you know what's best for you, you should stick to playing cards with China-girl."

Al wanted to hit him, but knew better than catching the bait like that. He knew his brother would've punched the guy already, with his automail hand, but he wasn't short-tempered like his brother. The guy was much taller and (apparently) older than him, and seemed like a guy who meant trouble, the rebellious way he dressed and the way he was grinning and high fiving his classmates. Knowing a bully when he saw one, Al knew they were probably testing him, wanting to get him in trouble on his first day. He didn't want to be expelled by Armstrong already.

"Just leave her alone," he replied and kneeled down to pick up the cards that had fallen to the floor.

The guys snorted and left the classroom, seemingly in a hurry because of the short period of free time.

Al handed Mei back her cards.

"That wasn't necessary," Mei said, but she smiled still. "Brad and his friends are usually like that. You shouldn't bother yourself with them. Do you want to try by the way?" She didn't even seem bothered by them at all, and Al calmed down a bit.

"Try the cards?" he asked unsurely.

"Yes. You pick one, and I read what it might mean."

"Okay," Al said. "How do I do it?"

"You simply pick one you feel is right for you." Mei gathered the cards and shuffled them once again, before standing up and spread them in a half circle over Al's desk as he sat down again. "Close your eyes."

Al nodded and closed his eyes, and leisurely let his hand glide over the glossy cards. One that felt right? For fun's sake, he experimented by touching the surface of the cards and tried to sense if he felt anything different for each one. He didn't feel anything in particular, at least not until he reached the second half of the row. As his hand touched the surface of one of the cards, he literally _felt_ something. It felt warm and prickled a bit, not unlike the way he had felt at the time he tried to do alchemy in this world for the first time. He opened his eyes with a sharp breath and stared at the cards, then at Mei. She was watching him intently, like she had been looking for a reaction like he had just performed.

Quietly he closed his eyes again, and let his hand continue. The warm and prickling feeling had stopped. Had he just imagined it? Slowly, he trailed his hand back over the half-circle, and touched the cards around the same place, feeling the warmth of energy come back and tease the palm of his hand. The cards were bigger than normal playing cards as well, and felt thick and he picked the one he felt. He brought it up and opened his eyes.

The card showed a blindfolded man holding two swords, one in each hand. In the background there was a circular shape, like a sun or moon, and he immediately realized why he must've felt something of a reaction. Even if there wasn't a full moon outside, he could feel energy from circles. That explained it. He looked up and handed the card to Mei. "What does this mean?"

Mei looked at the card. "Two of swords." She nodded. "There's a balance between these two sides, where you're one side and a brother figure to you is on the other."

Al swallowed a bit. "Oh?"

"Together you're protecting something in-between yourselves," Mei went on. "Something that is close to both of your hearts. It could be a thing or a person you both love. As long as you keep the barrier around the one you're protecting up, you won't get hurt." She took a deep breath and searched Al's eyes to see if she might have understood it wrong and her dark orbs misted of concern by the look on Al's face. "Sometimes people think I'm prying. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Al said fast. This was interesting. She had read him better than he had ever read a person's feelings before. And he was supposed to be the expert, after all those years being trapped in a suit of armour. "What does the blindfold mean?"

"That one of you might be wrong and you're blinded to see the actual truth," Mei said. "Maybe one of your ideas has been proven incorrect and, though you see that you were wrong, you do not want to admit it. It can be painful to remove a blindfold and see the truth, because even the softest light will blind those who have lived in darkness. In general, it means that being blinded by the light is far preferable than being blinded by the dark."

Al found this more interesting than he actually wanted. The reading was pretty general. Maybe it could fit for anything. But still, a deep voice within was whispering to him that this might be of actual importance. What if his theory was wrong? What he if couldn't bring his brother back?

"I think the class is about to start," Mei said, smiling again. "I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you. You're free to think it's insanity like everybody else." She patted Xiao Mei on her shoulder, and the little panda disappeared obediently down inside her shirt this time.

What bothered Al the most wasn't what she said, but the way she said it. She sounded eternally happy even if people thought she might be a bit loony. But so far Al hadn't noticed her to be any sort of crazy.

"Who cares what other people think," Al said and smiled at her.

"Right," Mei said, beaming.

* * *

The factory was more impressive than he could imagine. He walked after Oscar Cotton, gawking at the surroundings in awe. "This is amazing, sir," Alfons said. "I've never seen an aerospace engineering factory in the size of this."

Cotton laughed humbly. "I'm even more interested in what you think of our latest prototype. This is of course a secret project, so I have to ask you not to tell anyone what you see here."

"I completely understand that, sir," Alfons said sincerely.

"Alright." He waved some people over that Alfons had already greeted. "Could you help me to take off the covering over here, Lance?"

The man called Lance complied and together the two men removed a huge tarpaulin that covered an unfinished model lying on its side.

Alfons stepped nearer to get a closer look at it. "This is..." he started in wonder. He recognized this prototype. Vato Falman had developed a model very similar to it before he died. "You're developing liquid fuel based rockets," Alfons said.

"Indeed," Cotton said. "You're sharp as seeing it just by taking a look like that. Do you have a lot of experience with liquid fuel?"

"Actually, I have," Alfons said slowly. He had to be careful with revealing too much. Not because his recipe was a huge national secret, but because he had never made it in this own world before, only in the other. It had been his and Edward's idea, since it would make the aircraft more efficient. But he had made the recipe by himself. Of course, he had to lie about that. "Back in Germany we were experimenting with the use of liquid propellants that can be capable of higher altitudes and distance. Vato Falman had started developing it," he explained, "but he never finished."

"Because of that, America might beat Germany in this field of technology," Cottons said. "That's too bad. A great loss for all of Germany to lose a man like Falman."

Alfons nodded slightly, but didn't really know what to respond to that.

"Say Alfons, do you want to start working here?" Cotton asked him with a small smile.

Alfons stared at him in surprise. "I would love to. But is that really all right? I haven't even had an interview or talked to everyone... Who is in charge of this project?"

Cotton grinned. "I believe that is me. Together with my friend, Dr. Robert Goddard, though he seemed very interested in you. I will make sure you get to meet with him tomorrow."

This was almost too good to be true. Alfons didn't think he had even tried to impress anyone yet, and yet they wanted to give him a job. He almost couldn't wait to tell Edward, before he remembered that he couldn't. At least not yet.

* * *

The rest of the day went incredibly fast, so fast that Al felt he'd hardly had the time to get to know any of his classmates except for Mei, and the group of guys he wanted to avoid at all cost. What was difficult with Mei was that she didn't seem to have any friends, which made Al stuck with her in both History and Biology class. At least he had gotten a key to his locker so he could use his own books.

By the end of the day he already had three homework assignments to do before Thursday. His bag was filled with English and History books and he stepped down the stair from the main entrance together with his new friend.

"Don't worry," Mei said encouragingly. "The Chemistry and Geography teachers will probably let us hand in the homework by Friday."

"That's still a lot do in one week," Al grumbled. "Is it always like this?"

"Pretty much."

Al sighed. He didn't want to complain, but at this rate, when would he get the time to work on the alchemy circle?

"I'm going to try finishing high school quickly," he said, not caring if it sounded arrogant. "I'll try taking the second and third year in one."

Mei stared at him like he was the Queen of England. "That's quite impressive! Go Al!" she cheered excitedly, and jumped up and down beside him.

Al stared at her in amusement. Was she really always this cheerful? It was kind of nice to be around someone this happy for once. "If this semester goes well, I will do it. I want to go to college as quickly as possible."

"What are you going to do in college?" Mei asked curiously.

"Medical studies."

"That's nice," Mei smiled. "I'm interested in medical studies too, actually!" She was humming and leaping as she walked, like the happiest person ever. Al wanted to ask her why she didn't seem to have any other friends, but he didn't want to sound rude.

"I can always read another card for you and see your future!"

"You can see the future too?" Al mused.

Mei shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I do. I can't really decide what I'll see. It's kind of a bit like magic I guess." She laughed, knowing it sounded a little odd.

But Al stopped with a frown. "Mei, do you know anything about alchemy?"

"Alchemy?" She stopped and tasted the word. "I think my grandmother does. She's told me about witchcraft before. She was the one who gave me the cards. Why?"

"No reason," Al shrugged. "I just wondered if it could have a connection to your tarot cards somehow."

"Hey losers," a familiar voice called. As Al turned around he saw the same guys from their class that had bothered them earlier, and he wished he wasn't still within the school area. That meant, he could possibly get expelled if he got into a fight. "If it isn't the middle-schooler," the guy mocked.

Al scowled at him. "What do you want?"

There were three of them. Usually he could take them out, but what good would that really do? He would probably be expelled unless he became the victim. As long as they didn't touch-

The guy laid a hand on Mei's shoulder and pushed her backwards. In a second Al had stepped forward and grabbed his arm. "Stay away from her."

The guy snorted through a grin. "Yeah, she'll stay out of this. We only have business with you, kid."

Mei stood outside the circle they had made around Al and stared from one to another with saddened eyes. Somehow, the fact that they'd driven Mei's happy expression away pissed Al off. "Just leave us alone," he said.

"Who do you think you are really?" The guy grabbed Al's ponytail and kept his head directed at him. "You think you're so smart that you can come here to this school as a 12-year-old?"

"I'm not 12," Al informed. "And it's none of your business."

"Why does he have his hair like that?" one of the others joined in, grabbing his jacket. "Do you want to look like a little girl?"

They laughed.

Al wrung their hands off of him and stepped back. "I said, leave us alone." Why was it that he always attracted bullies like this? He had last time he had gone to school as well, but then Edward had been there and kicked their asses. Edward had gotten detentions a lot of times because he had defended Al from bullies. It had always made him feel guilty as hell, but Edward had never cared about detentions.

"I don't think so," the guy said. "I have a small lesson I need to teach you." He stepped fast forward and took a swing at Al, which Al dodged by moving swiftly to the side. Then he jumped over a kick that was lunged for his calf and ducked from the new punch.

"Little rat," the guy growled and leaped forward to knock Al to the ground, when Al tried to move, the other two blocked his way and he was suddenly pressed down into the snow. The wind got knocked out of him and as he gasped to breathe, his mouth and eyes got covered in dirty snow. Al gagged and tried to twist away, but his arms were held by one guy and his legs by another as the third sat on top of him and straddled his stomach.

Al twisted his head to the side and coughed to spit out the filthy snow, and blinked his eyes in Mei's direction. He wanted to tell her to run for help, but his eyes widened as she dropped to her knees, found her cards and spread them into a half circle in the snow.

_What the hell was she doing?_

A hand pressed at his throat and Al panicked. The guy leaned close to his face, his breath hitting his skin sending cold shivers down his spine. "Any new little kid like you will become my prey, do you understand? If you're so smart, maybe you can do my homework for me too? And maybe you can bring me some money, or you can get your face pondered on, it's up to you."

In his view of vision Mei picked out a card with closed eyes and looked at it. Her expression turned surprised, and she might have gasped. What did that mean?

"Hello everyone," a new voice said cheerfully. "The word pathetic really gets a whole new meaning every time I lay my eyes on you."

The three guys holding Al down looked up and faltered a bit. "Who the fuck are _you_?" The hand over Al's throat got removed and he took some deep breaths as he twisted his head. His assaulters were looking at a single black-haired foreign-looking guy with his arms crossed and a wide smile on his face. His eyes were slanted to the point where they looked closed.

"Oh, just your favourite Chinese next door," the raven-haired said. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size, like me?" he continued merrily. "At least you'll make some use of yourselves and give me a good opportunity to practice."

He went into an attack faster than Al could even see, and the guy sitting on top of him got kicked away with a straight side-kick against his side. In the same moment the two others started away from Al. They had no time to run away as the ponytailed Chinese boy hit one of them at two certain points in the chest, before quickly hunched down and spun his leg out to trip the other one. As the other two didn't give up and tried to attack him at once, he balanced on one hand, spread his legs out and hit both of them at the same time in the stomach with his feet.

The third bully had gotten enough by that and started to run away. The Chinese landed on his feet again and gave the other two an expectant look. They didn't have to decide for long before they set off after their friend and disappeared.

Al stared up at the older boy in awe and crawled back up on his feet. He was dressed in a yellow jacket with white flames on the back, and looked to be around Alfons' age. "Wow, that was impressive," Al said. "Thanks for—" He didn't get to finish before the elder stepped over to him and pulled him all the way up by the arm and started hurrying off while dragging him along.

"You're coming with me, kid," he said, just as cheerfully.

Al stared confused up at him. "What—?"

"I have some business with you."

Al struggled experimentally, but the other didn't let go. "You too?" he muttered.

"Please do not compare me with those pathetic third-rate idiots," the Chinese stated. "You simply caught my attention."

"Why?" Al wanted to know, twisting his head back to see if Mei was following, but he couldn't spot her anywhere.

"We can't talk out in public."

The older boy brought him to a section behind the main building and unlocked a door with a key. Al looked questioningly around himself as he was shoved forward inside. The other went after him and pushed him in the back to make him move on with it.

Al stumbled forward and recognized the room as a wardrobe. The black-haired beckoned him towards another door, leading into a large and empty gym hall. As Al stood confused, and the other closed the door tightly after him before grabbing Al again.

Alphonse got his back shoved against the nearest wall and his heart kick-started for real. "What do you want with me? Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name is Ling Yao," the Chinese introduced himself, his voice echoing in the dimness of the large gym hall. "I'm just wondering one thing. Why do you have more than one soul within you?"


	11. Ch'i

CHAPTER 11: CH'I

"_My name is Ling Yao," the Chinese introduced himself, his voice echoing in the dimness of the large gym hall. "I'm just wondering one thing. Why do you have more than one soul within you?"_

Al abruptly stopped any attempt on struggling his way out of the grip that held him plastered against the wall. Unable to keep his face expressionless, he knew by the look on his own face that it would be impossible to keep the truth hidden. His copper eyes had widened fractionally in shock.

_How could this person possibly know?_

The Chinese boy looked at him expectantly with a small smirk on his face, not making any sign of letting him off before he had an answer. Al forced himself to calm down. This Ling Yao had saved him from getting beaten up by those bullies, as embarrassing as it had been Al owed him. Besides, he didn't seem like a bad guy. But even if Al was a master of reading people, he found it hard to read the meaning of the expression on Ling's face. His eyes were still slanted closed, which made it impossible to see the real expression in them.

Al took a deep breath. "I'll tell you if you let me go."

Ling mulled it over for a moment before letting go of Al's arms and let him step away from the wall. "My apologies," he said. "You are new to this school, aren't you? I can't recall seeing you here before."

Alphonse nodded and regarded him for a moment. He was almost as tall as Alfons Heiderich, with long, pointy bangs and his hair in a long ponytail like Al had. "I moved here from Germany not long ago. Tell me… why did you bring me here exactly?"

"Because I knew no one would be here this late," Ling said. "And this is a little _hush hush_," he smiled. "Most people are pretty sceptical about these things. So, are you going to tell me the truth?"

"I can try," Al said cautiously. "But first I want to know how _you_ know."

Ling kept smiling and crossed his arms. "Knowing things is my specialty. At least I try. Although, if you think I've met someone else like you before, that's not it. You're the only one so far. That is why you caught my attention."

"I guess that's good," Al muttered. "But I'm not sure you'll believe the truth nonetheless."

"Try me, I'm quite open-minded," Ling said blithely.

"You have to promise you won't tell anyone else," Al said, not even knowing yet what to tell the older boy.

What if he had a connection to Dietrich, Kimblee's parallel person? What if he wanted to use the information for the wrong reasons? But on the other hand, there had to be something unusual about him since he could know that he had more than one soul. Maybe he knew about alchemy?

Ling nodded and laid his hand on his heart. "I promise you, I will not tell anyone else. What's your name, my young friend?"

Al reached him his hand and Ling took it. "Alphonse Elric, but most people call me Al." He took a deep breath before adding: "I'm not really from this world."

Ling let go of his hand with an interested expression. "Not from this world, you say?"

"I'm from a place where alchemy was developed as a science, and I'm an alchemist," Al said. "Do you know anything about alchemy?"

"Alchemy is a legend," Ling said. "I've only heard of it."

Al was slightly surprised that Ling believed him this easily, but it made things a bit easier. Even if he knew he wasn't supposed to tell anyone about his old life, telling this person didn't seem wrong at all anymore for some reason. "There is a Gate connecting the worlds together. Inside it holds bodiless souls and one of them came with me to this world. That's why there's another soul inside me."

"_So, he knows about me?"_ Schiller said, having decided to step out. _"It even looks like he can see me."_

Ling stared at Schiller's ghostly form standing next to Al. "I can both see and hear it."

How was that possible? Al was kind of happy that he wasn't the only one anymore. It sort of confirmed that he wasn't crazy. On the other hand it was pretty unbelievable. He hadn't imagined that there existed people like this in this world. But why not? Alchemy probably seemed as alien to them as fortune telling and the ability to see ghosts were to him.

"His name is Schiller," Al introduced. "He was a soldier in the war." He thought it was odd that Schiller could show himself like this here and now when Al wasn't by himself in his room or if he was upset.

"Um, hello Mr. Schiller, it's a pleasure to meet you," Ling said with a smile and bowed deeply.

"_Hello Ling Yao."_

"I have to admit, I've never seen anything like this before," Ling said cheerfully. "It seems like a completely new form of ch'i."

"Ch'i?" Al echoed.

Ling nodded. "In China, where I come from, we believe in a flow of energy that is the life force of everything that exists. The more we learn about both our own Ch'i and the Ch'i of others, human or nature, the more we can use it to get stronger."

"So, everything has its own energy?" Al surmised.

"That's right. Everything is connected," Ling said.

Al brightened up and stared at him. For once he felt that this world really had a lot of similarities to his own. All is one, one is all. Everything is connected. It was exactly what his teacher had used to say.

"When used right, certain types of ch'i can even save lives and used to heal both mental and physical wounds," Ling continued.

"Healing powers?" Al said eagerly. Alchemy could be used the same way! Ch'i seemed to have a lot in common with Xingese alchemy. Or maybe, ch'i was the energy, the very source, which made the existence of alchemy possible?

Ling nodded. "The question is which kind of ch'i to use in different situations. And everyone can't specialize in all kinds of ch'is, there are too many."

"What kind of ch'i are you specialized in?" Al asked, genuinely interested. This was amazing!

Ling regarded him for a moment, scratching his chin. "Well, Al. If you want to, I can show you. But the timing will be better right after school tomorrow."

"Okay?" Al looked at him, slightly disappointed. He wanted to know more!

Ling nodded pleased. "Come with me to my material arts class tomorrow then. I recommend it as an option for your multiple choice subject. Since it's an optional subject, anyone can join no matter what age and class."

Al nodded in wonder. "All right." That sounded like a good idea. It would be a good opportunity to keep himself in shape.

"Meet me here after school," Ling said as they left the gym hall and came back outside. "I'll see you then."

"Thanks, see you!"

Al hurried towards the school gate and looked around for Mei, but he couldn't see her anywhere. He hoped she had just gone home after what happened. Schiller had disappeared as well. With a thoughtful scowl, Al started on the way home, half-running. Alfons was probably done for the day too by now. What a strange day.

* * *

When he got inside the door, the smell of dinner met him and he immediately got into a lighter mood. Alfons stood by the stove, but turned to him and smiled as he heard the door close.

"Hey, how was your first day, Al?"

"It was okay," Al said and dropped down in a chair by the kitchen table. "My teacher didn't know that I was starting today, so he was a bit put out at first. But I think he's okay."

"That's good," Alfons said. "Dinner will be ready soon. I made stew."

"Awesome! How about you?" Al asked. "Did you get the job?"

Alfons chuckled. "Yes, before I even knew it. I found out that Mr. Cotton is actually the leader of the team, together with someone else called Goddard. I'm meeting with him tomorrow. Even if they work together, they have two separate working places. Goddard works in Auburn."

"Where is that?"

"Only about one hour away from Boston," Alfons said. "I might be working a bit over there as well sometimes."

"That's great though," Al said with a smile. "Working with rocketry is your dream, isn't it?"

Alfons nodded but his eyes traced off towards the wall behind Al. "Well, yes. At least it used to be." He smiled softly. "Now I'd probably settle with anything, as long as..."

... Edward could be here too.

"I see," Al said. He quietly stood up from the stool. "Let me know when dinner is ready, I have a lot of homework to do."

"Ten minutes," Alfons said. He smiled to himself, knowing Al wouldn't be able to keep track of time the moment he started working. "I'll knock and remind you."

"Thanks." Al brought his bag into his room and dropped it down next to the bed. Then he settled down by the desk without even touching any school books and started deciphering the codes from his father's notebook, hoping to find something he could use in the new array. He had to get it right the first time, given that alchemy only worked for some hours during full moon on the 21st of February. They both needed Edward back. He had even started to wonder if Alfons might need Edward more than Al did. He would never forget the look on his face the night Edward had last appeared, desperately asking him to get Edward back right away. Alfons had probably seen something awful. Al's fists clenched around the book and pencil.

It was all up to _him_, and he wouldn't let either Alfons or his brother down.

* * *

The next day, Tuesday morning, Al walked sleepily through the corridor of school to his locker, found his chemistry books and shuffled towards the classroom. He had barely slept at all last night. First he had spent hours caught up with solving the codes, then spent most of the night on the first English essay. He still had one more to write before Thursday, in addition to the History and Biology homework. He wouldn't have time to work on the array much more until Friday night.

He dropped down by his desk and stared dully straight forward, gaining a concerned look from his left. "Hi Alphonse," a girl's voice said in a light tone.

He shook out of his trance and stared at Mei – with the little panda on her head. "Mei! I'm sorry I just disappeared yesterday... Are you alright?" he asked, mildly concerned.

"I'm fine," Mei beamed. "I'm glad you didn't get hurt."

Al wondered how she knew that, when he remembered that she had brought out her tarot cards in the middle of the fight. "Uh, can I ask, what did the card from yesterday say? The one you picked during the fight."

Mei shrugged. "It said you'd be alright."

"Really?"

"Well actually," she said slowly, hesitating a little before continuing. "It showed the Prince of Wands."

That didn't really explain much. "But, how did you know something would actually happen?" Al asked, remembering her reaction as she looked at the card.

She shrugged. "I didn't. I just assumed it would." At least she was honest.

"Isn't that a bit risky?" Al asked. "Someday you might be in real danger, and what if you depend on the cards too much, you might pass the wrong judgement of a situation and get yourself hurt?"

Mei just smiled at him and gently lifted the little panda down from her head to hide it inside her sweater. "You don't have to be worried about me, Alphonse. The morning before you arrived, the cards told me I would meet a kind and tolerant person who would speak to me."

"But, what if I hadn't spoken to you if you hadn't given me your book," Al pointed out. "The fact that you got that card could've affected your decision to lend me your book. Your cards didn't tell you to share the book with me, did they?"

"No," she said, though she didn't seem put off by the implication. "I did that because you needed a book. You're overthinking this, Alphonse."

Al went silent as the teacher came into the classroom, and his jaw dropped as he recognized him. His first thought was to hide behind his book, when he remembered the person wasn't the same as in his world. Which was good...

"Good day, class," the parallel person of Brigadier General Carl R. Kiehle said with an awkward foreign accent. "Open your books on chapter six. You'll be given a test on Friday about the periodic table. You can find the full map of the table in the back of the text book."

The majority of the class moaned in dissatisfaction. Al flipped to the back of the book and studied the table of elements. This was completely his field, though the table in his own world had been a bit different. Though, he didn't think it would be much of a problem to get used to this one.

Next to him Mei beamed. "You like chemistry?"

Al looked up and shrugged modestly. He _loved _chemistry! "It's okay, I suppose." He looked up at the front of class at the teacher who had started scribbling an assignment on the blackboard with close to illegible handwriting. "Who is the teacher?" he whispered to Mei.

"Professor Kiehle," Mei said. "He moved here last year from Romania."

"Romania?" Al said.

"Yeah, I don't think it's very far from Germany where you lived," Mei said. "He used to teach at a University there."

Romania was the country where his brother had first met Alfons. He remembered Alfons telling him about that. "How is he?" Al asked a bit hesitantly.

Mei shrugged. "Okay, I guess. A bit dry maybe, but he's good at chemistry."

Professor Kiehle turned around and scanned the class with narrow eyes. "Oh yes, I see we have a new student here today."

Al straightened up a bit and met the Professor's eyes.

"You can call me Professor Kiehle," he said formally. "And what is your name, young man?"

"Alphonse Elric, sir," Al replied politely.

Kiehle's eyes narrowed at him and he took a few steps closer. "Elric? Where have I heard that name before?"

Al raised his shoulders into a civil shrug.

"You do remind me of a student I used to have back at the University in Brasov one year ago. He was a brilliant young man, Alfons Heiderich was his name."

Al smiled in pleasant surprise. "He's my half-brother, we look quite alike. If you know him, maybe you know my brother too. He went to the University with him."

"Ah, that must be it," Professor Kiehle acknowledged, his voice changing into spite. "Edward Elric, I remember that arrogant and foolish know-it-all. I sure hope you haven't inherited his ego, Elric."

Al blinked in light shock. Until now, this man hadn't had anything in common with the other man called Kiehle, but as soon as he had mentioned Edward, it was like pushing the cruel cold-heartedness-button.

"There's an assignment for you at the blackboard, everyone," Professor Kiehle barked. "Get started. You will do it individually so there will be no reason to talk. Hand it in after class."

Eventually Al got used to the new teacher, but felt a bit edgy as he handed in the paper by the end of the class, especially because of the '_I expect a lot from you_-look' he received from Professor Kiehle.

Mei met up with him outside by the lockers, smiling brightly as always. "It's funny that Professor Kiehle knows your brothers!"

"Yeah," Al mumbled. _And of course his brother had to go and get on wrong terms with their common teacher so he could let it out on him._

"_I'll be looking forward to censor this so I can see if you live up to your name,"_ the professor had said before waving him off. If analyzing that sentence, it was kind of a compliment to his brother, Al figured, even if the professor didn't seem to want to acknowledge him.

"Did you live with your brothers in Romania at that time?" Mei prodded curiously.

"No, I lived with my grandma," Al said, feeling edgy again.

"In Germany?"

"No, that was somewhere else. London." Al didn't want to, but he figured he should keep to the same story Alfons had cooked up long ago so he could keep track of what he had told people. But still, he hated lying. Besides, if Mei could use tarot cards like that, would she know that he was lying to her?

"Oh, you seem like you've travelled a lot," Mei said as she opened her locker and brought out her geography book.

"I don't feel like I have," Al said. "I haven't seen that much of the world yet."

Mei closed her locker door and beamed. "We're travelling to Africa today in Geography class."

Al chuckled. "That is definitely a place I haven't been before."

"Me neither," Mei said. "But I imagine it's both nice and terrible."

The next two hours were spent in the classroom listening to Mr. Redman talk about Africa. Al found Geography almost more interesting than any other subject, because it was one of the things he didn't already know that much about. After the class was over, he wanted to travel to Kenya and just explore the new wild territory.

The last class for the day was gymnastics, and he went with Mei to the gym hall where he had been taken to by Ling Yao the day before. They went to each of their locker room, and Al wished slightly that he had gotten to know some of the other boys from his class already. He made sure to stay away from Brad and his friends as best he could and put his bag down on a bench next to brown-haired boy he hadn't talked to before.

"Hi," Al said.

"Hi," the other boy replied. He was sitting finished changed on the bench and closed his eyes behind the glasses for a moment. "These days are too long. And putting gym last is just ridiculous."

Al changed into his shorts and smiled. "I'm Al."

"Jake." He looked at his watch. "One minute until class starts. I guess you haven't met the teacher yet. She's a tough one."

"I've had tough teachers before," Al said with mirth in his voice.

Jake stood up from the bench and stretched like he had just slept. "No one beats this one. If you get tired, she'll beat you up." He grinned. "She won't care if it's your first gym lesson."

They headed out the door of the wardrobe, into the large gym hall where Al had agreed to meet Ling the day before. Brad stepped past Al as they walked and purposely collided into his shoulder. Al staggered forward a bit and scowled at him.

"Watch where you're going, middle-schooler," Brad grinned. "This isn't a place for kids."

Al was about to come with a fitting reply when he was interrupted by an alarming flute. "Shut up everyone and gather around here!" a female voice shouted from the left.

As Al and Jake followed the other students to gather in front of the teacher, Mei joined his side. The teacher still held the flute readily against her lips and a ball under her arm. She was slender and beautiful, wearing a white outfit. She had long, dark dreads, gathered in a ponytail behind her head.

Al gasped a bit with wide eyes. He would never get used to seeing these people all the time...

"Keep quiet and get ready to run! We're warming up today with twenty laps around the hall. I will not tolerate any slackers. I don't teach weaklings!"

Some of the students straightened up a little in quiet obedience.

"I heard we have a new student here today!" the woman called out strictly. "Show yourself!"

The students next to Al automatically stepped a bit away from him, allowing him space to step forward. Most of the others were much taller than him so she never would've had a chance to even see him otherwise.

She regarded him with a narrow look. "What's your name, kid?"

"Alphonse Elric, ma'am," he said politely.

"Elric," the teacher acknowledged. "I'm Izumi Curtis, but you can refer to me whatever you wish. I hate formalities." She addressed everyone again. "When you've warmed up, we're going to play basketball, with no complaints! Now, get started!"

The students started on the rounds around the gym hall, Al jogging next to Mei and lowered his voice. "Uhm, how does basketball work?"

Jake heard the question and Al received a strange look from him, which almost made him surprised that he received no similar look from Mei.

"There are two teams, one ball which you throw into your opponent's hoop, you can't kick the ball and you have to bounce it in the ground while you run," she explained.

"How come you've never heard of it?" Jake asked.

"Uhm," Al said.

"Are you serious?!" Brad showed up behind them. "This kid doesn't know what basketball is? Have you lived in a cave or something?"

Al had a terrible feeling that he was supposed to know about that sport, no matter what country he was from, so he couldn't really blame the fact that he was from "Germany". Though, it did remind him of a similar sport in his own world, only that the name had been something else.

Brad chortled with glee. "I'm going to destroy you, Elric."

When they finished the laps, Al was so nervous he could hardly even stand. This world probably had a lot of things that was different from his own, and he was nervous about failing at things that were completely common to everybody else. It was a strange feeling, being this nervous, especially since he had been through far worse in his life than a simple ball game.

The teacher threw out some bands in blue and red. When they had been divided into a blue team and a red team _(where Brad purposely made sure to pick a different colour than Al)_, the teacher blew her whistle and the game started.

Al used a couple of seconds to observe what all the others did as they played, while bouncing around for defence outside the mob without trying to fetch the ball. But it didn't seem too difficult, and his world did have a ball game that looked like it.

Jake caught the ball and bounced it forward towards the basket of the blue team, but got blocked by two of Brad's friends. He spun around, discovering Al from the side and threw the ball to him. Al caught it and continued bouncing it towards the end of the field, swiftly avoiding the defence and slipping past Brad underneath his arm. He reach the blue team's basket and tossed the ball up, the ball slipping easily into the hoop and scored the first point to the red team.

Al received some nice comments from his teammates and an ugly look from Brad, and the game continued. After a while, Al had helped the red team to score several points, and the blue team turned more and more grumpy. In general the two teams were equally strong though, and the blue team managed to score enough to keep up.

Al realized, running around like this, simply worrying about a ball, was the most relaxing thing he had ever done lately. He was fighting in a way that wouldn't get him killed, and he couldn't help enjoying it. He also noticed than being smaller than the others not necessarily was a bad thing in this case.

Al tossed the ball to Mei, observing that she kept passively away from the centre of the game, and as soon as she got the ball, Brad took the chance and snatched it away from her before scoring a point to the blue team, making the score equal.

"The next score wins the game!" Izumi announced.

The red team tossed the ball around each other and the blue team put up a defence. Brad kept close to Al, blocking his view on the ball with his height, and it would be difficult to get rid of him. Jake ran across the central line of the field, straight towards Brad who was blocking for Al, and bounced the ball down between Brad's parted legs. Al caught the ball behind Brad and set two quick strides forward before he tossed the ball into the hoop, scoring the winning points to the red team.

Izumi whistled the match as over, and the red team cheered for their victory. Al noticed some acknowledging looks from many of the class, and it felt surprisingly good. He felt more accepted than he'd been yesterday.

"Nice passing," he told Jake.

"Nice scoring," Jake replied.

"Good match, students!" Izumi acknowledged. "That's all for today."

Al smiled as most of the class turned to leave for the locker room. Brad didn't say anything to him, but the look he received might as well been a dagger thrown at him. Al was kind of glad that he didn't have to hit the showers yet. He would've been very uncomfortable being exposed like that around Brad.

"You're not going?" Mei asked him as he didn't make a move back towards the locker room.

"No, I'm staying for material arts class," Al said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right, good luck," Mei smiled and then disappeared into the girls' locker room.

He sunk down on a bench by the wall with a sigh and wiped off some sweat from his forehead. The class had gone surprisingly fast.

"You're still here, kid?" Izumi said, stopping beside him with the ball under her arm.

"I'm waiting for someone," Al explained. "I'm thinking of joining the martial arts class."

"Oh really," Izumi nodded. "That's good. I think you'll fit well into that class." She smiled a crooked smile and then left for the locker room.

Not long after, the Chinese boy showed up in the gym hall, waving a hand while holding a pile of clothing in the other. "Hi there, Al! I watched the match for some minutes. Not bad!"

Al chuckled. "Thanks."

Ling stopped before him, his bright, slanted eyes in a constant beam. "So, are you ready for some _real_ training?"

"For sure," Al nodded excitedly.

"Well, first you need to change," Ling said and threw the pile of white clothing into Al's face. "This is your uniform, for lighter weight."

Al held the clothing away from his face and regarded it curiously. It was light and silky white with small button straps at the side of the chest. "Thanks, I'll be right back." He hurried towards the locker room to change. To his small relief, Brad and his friends had already disappeared when he got there, so he changed undisturbed into the new outfit. He had never worn anything like it before. It felt more like a pyjama than a training uniform. He didn't have a mirror, so he had no idea if he looked good in it or not but that probably didn't matter anyway.

He went back into the gym hall and found Ling together with some other students who had turned up, already dressed in their white training outfits. There were rubber mats laid out all over the floor. The class wasn't very big, it seemed, as there was only around ten students attending.

"Alright, let's start!" Izumi Curtis called out, showing up again and the students turned to her. She had changed into a similar outfit. "Gather up in pairs! We have a new student today, which is terrific. I will pair you up with..." She regarded each student thoughtfully.

Ling stood with his arms crossed and smiled cunningly. "I'll be his partner, Teacher."

"All right, Yao," Izumi nodded. "But don't be too harsh on him on his first day, alright?"

"I won't," Ling replied cheerfully.

"First of all we're learning the Chinese type of martial arts called _wushu_," Izumi stated out loud. "And today we're going to get a closer feel of a secondary fighting style in wushu, called _xingyiquan_. Xingyiquan features contain aggressive, shocking attacks and direct footwork. The linear nature of xingyiquan hints at both the military origins and the influence of spear technique alluded to in the Chinese mythology. Despite its hard, angular appearance, cultivating soft internal strength is always essential to achieving power in xingyiquan, in other words your ch'i." She took a stance in front of the group on the mat, raising her hands straight forward and the students mimicked her. "Always breathe slowly and deeply. It's a form of meditation you'll need to get in contact with your ch'i. Follow my movements and feel your inner strength like a flow of energy within you."

Al could only think of alchemy. It was the main energy flow within himself he believed in. Often his old teacher had taught him and Edward that they needed to depend on their own strength more than alchemy, and not use alchemy for everything. Had that lesson something to do with this?

But if this wasn't the same as alchemic energy, then what was it?

After warming up, Izumi demonstrated some moves for them to practise on. "Go together with your partner and take turns on practising what I just showed you," she instructed. "Needless to say, there will be not thrown any _real_ punches here, but there wouldn't be training unless someone got hurt. People who can't control their ch'i have no need to be here."

Al swallowed. He had never been nervous about a fight before, unless it had been with his old teacher, and yet here he was nervous about a training fight. Al stepped onto a separate mat he shared with Ling, at some distance from the other pairs. He had fought countless of men with the intention of hurting or murdering him, and he had always lived to tell the tale afterwards. But those fights worked in a different way than training. Still he had been good in sparring fights with his brother too, not only as a suit of armour, even if he was the younger one.

Ling brought his hands together, like a prayer, like Edward would do whenever he preformed alchemy. Al stared at him for a moment.

"First we bow," Ling announced.

"Oh, right." Al brought his hands together the same way and they both bowed deeply to each other.

As they straightened up, Ling spoke again. "I want you to come at me with your best shot. This will be a mere test round."

"Alright." Al took a stance on the mat and readied himself for an attack. Receiving a signal from Ling he shot forward with the intention to get in a few shots and proceed by dodging the counter-attacks. He was more used to dodging than starting a fight, and had to admit that he preferred a position of defence rather than an attacking position, even if defending was harder than attacking.

Ling dodged him, making him miss all the attack attempts and shot out a grip around his wrist with one hand, and around his forearm with the other. Before Al knew it he got swiftly flipped off his feet and landed on his back on the mat, while Ling was still holding his arm pointing upwards, freely able to twist it out of proportions if he liked.

Al stiffened and remained seated on the floor, not knowing what to expect.

"You're fast," Ling said. "But your fighting style is too blunt and messy. I could easily read you, though I can tell that you have experience in fighting."

Maybe he was a bit out of training after all. This wasn't exactly the same as avoiding an assault of an old drunkard. Al sighed. "I do, but I haven't trained in a while. And it wasn't the same style as this, I suppose."

"What style was it?" Ling asked.

"Uh..." Al said. His arm got released and he rose to his feet. "Another world-like?"

Ling laughed. "Really? No wonder then." He stepped back on the mat and went into a new stance. "I will do the first attack now. I need to see how you defend yourself."

Al nodded and readied himself. This was more his field. In the next moment Ling's hand shot toward his face like a bullet. Al twisted his head, but still felt the breeze of the movement against his chin. A leg came from the other side, like Ling had known exactly how he would move on beforehand, but in the last moment Al hunched down and ducked before the foot hit him. But now that he was down on his knees, he couldn't really defend himself properly. He lifted his right hand to meet the next blow, blocking it from hitting his face by meeting the fist with his palm. In the same motion he pushed himself up on his feet while trying to push Ling back. It worked, except that Ling was heavier and stronger and more skilled than him.

In the next second Ling had placed his foot around his knee and pulled him right off balance, gripping Al's arm before he was tackled backwards and before Al knew it the sharp air of Ling's other palm fell on his exposed throat as Ling stopped the strike only a few millimetres away from his gullet, like his hand was a knife ready to chop off his head.

Al didn't even breathe. He'd probably be dead if this had been a real fight. His eyes directed up at his opponent, feeling a bit awkward in the position, and the only thing preventing him from hitting the mat was Ling's grip around his arm.

"You do not really understand it yet," Ling said.

"Understand what?" Al managed. "I haven't fought like this before."

"True," Ling beamed and let go of him. "But you have some great potential."

Al sat on the mat with his legs crossed. "You mean ch'i is supposed to lead the fight, right?"

"Exactly," Ling said. "Let's try it again."

Al pulled himself up to his feet, determined that he wanted to understand this. For some reason, this seemed important. Ch'i had some sort of connection to alchemy and that was good enough for him.

Ling shot forward, gripped around his left arm to pin him to the spot and swung his left leg up against his head from the right side. Unable to dodge, Al barely even had time to block the foot swinging at him with his free arm, though it didn't help. He got brutally knocked over like a domino piece and ended up lying on his back, his arm aching after taking most of the blow.

"Ops," Ling muttered. "Maybe I got a bit carried away there. But that only means that I'm not underestimating you, right?"

Al pulled himself up on his feet again, rubbing his arm. "Yeah, appreciate it..."

Ling chuckled joyfully. "Have another go at me," he encouraged.

Al nodded and moved into a new flow of attacks with his hands while never standing still on one spot. The teacher had mentioned quick footwork, and he had noticed how Ling would always move to one of his sides to charge from a blind spot instead of coming straight on.

Ling held his fingers straight and got in some quick jabs at Al's chest and shoulders. Al winced, surprised by the pain of the light attacks. It was like Ling was consciously aiming for each and every spot he hit. He was getting his ass kicked! He tried to aim for Ling's beaming face, using it as a motivation to wipe it off of him, but Ling always found a way around his attempts.

Ling laughed merrily. "Focus on my ch'i. If you do that, you'll eventually be able to read my speed and movements."

"But I don't know how to do that yet," Al groaned. He had never tried to read another alchemist's abilities before either, even if many alchemists had one special skill. He had never thought of the possibility. Still, this wasn't exactly the same. Fighting wasn't the same as alchemy, but often he had combined the two in his own world. Edward had as well. It gave Al something to think about and gave him an idea.

"To tell you the truth," Ling continued, "reading ch'i isn't something _everyone_ can do. But, I have a reason to think you might be able to, being that you're sort of a special case."

Feeling some new encouragement flushing through him, Al shot out his own arm, the right one, and pressed it against Ling's chest. Hoping his idea would work, he kept his palm there for a long second, closing his eyes and tried to visualize the invisible flow of energy within a human's body. It was like he had just clapped and felt the warm energy rush through his body, only that this energy came from someone else than himself.

Ling dodged away from his hand and wrapped his arm swiftly around Al's arm with his elbow, an efficient trick to pin someone's arm and then snap the bone. Al could see Ling's move playing off inside his head, even before it happened.

But knowing Ling would never actually break his arm even if he still could use the upper hand to throw him down on the mat again, Al thought fast and used the only trump card he had. He was left-handed. Ling had caught the arm he believed was the dominant one. He crouched down and shot his left hand up underneath Ling's cheek. His right arm was released as his attacked missed. Ling jumped away from him and sank into a ready stance a couple of meters away, while Al backpedalled to gather himself and gain back his breath.

"You're getting better at this," Ling complimented. "But it doesn't help to have a background of training if you're not used to read your opponent's ch'i properly."

"I know that," Al breathed, but felt his own eyes shine of excitement. "I'm not tired yet."

Ling watched him thoughtfully for a moment, a small smile on his face. "Could it be that you were able to feel my ch'i for a short while as you touched my chest? The source of ch'i is the heart, so the flow of energy is always strongest in that area."

Al nodded slowly. "I think I understand a bit better now."

"Yeah, not a bad discovery," Ling said. "Definitely an improvement. But you have to be able to feel the energy without touching your opponent as well. Once your opponent is aware of that, he won't let you touch him again during the fight." He beamed again.

"We'll see," Al challenged back.

* * *

The class went by all too fast and Al found it being his favourite class so far. They agreed on meeting again soon and train together. Ling had totally owned him by the second half of the session as well, and Al hadn't been able to read his ch'i. But he guessed he needed more than a day to learn to do something like that.

As he headed home he wondered if Alfons might be worried since he was so late. He had forgotten to tell him that the martial arts class was placed after his last subject on his time table. All the other days he ended school at half past three, but now the clock was almost six already.

He stepped up the stairs of the house, feeling tired and looked forward to eat and sleep. If he went to bed early, maybe he could get up a couple of hours earlier tomorrow morning and work on the array before school started. Then he remembered the English homework and inwardly groaned. When was he going to get more time to work on the array if he had to do homework all the time when he wasn't at school?

He stepped inside and closed the cold outside, and he found Alfons lying asleep on the couch with a book over his face. Al smiled and stepped out of his boots, carefully avoiding stepping into the melting snow that was falling off of them. He hung his brown coat up on a hanger and tip toed across the room so he wouldn't wake him. Alfons had probably had a tiresome day at work as well. Al stopped by the spotless kitchen counter. It seemed like Alfons hadn't made any dinner yet since he'd probably waited for him to come back.

Working quietly, Al started making dinner. He hadn't made dinner a single time since he and Alfons started living together, and figured that was hardly fair. Alfons had done a lot for him, despite how heartbroken he was, and Al hadn't even realized it in the beginning.

After a while, Alfons stirred awake by the smell of food cooking across the room. He put away the book with a low sigh and blinked at the light. "Al?"

"Yeah," Al said, answering by the stove. "You're hungry, right? I figured I could make it today."

"Oh, thanks," Alfons said in wonder. "How was school?"

"It was good," Al said. "I have a lot of homework, but I was attending martial arts class as an option. It was cool."

"Sounds fun," Alfons smiled.

"How was your day? You slept like a log there," Al noted, sensing that something might not be right. Alfons seemed a bit edgy.

"It was fine." Alfons sat up on the couch and rubbed his forehead. "I wasn't that tired when I got home, really. I just..."

Al stopped cutting vegetables for a moment and turned around to stare at him. "What?"

"I tried to... I mean, sometimes when I sleep I can..."

Al put the knife down on the counter and stepped closer to his doppelganger while regarding his sorrowful, blue eyes. "Were… Were you trying to contact Brother?" he asked carefully.

Alfons nodded. "I wanted to warn him... about showing up here. It sounds mental saying it out loud, but in my dreams we can somehow communicate. However, while his soul is here, his mind and body don't know what's going on. I thought I could tell him that... that we're getting him back soon and that he has to stay put. But, it is out of my control. I'm not able to decide when I can see him…" He looked down with a sad frown. He didn't mean to be so depressed around Al, but he couldn't help it.

Al smiled softly and sat down next to Alfons. "He already knows that."

Alfons let out a soft sound. "Maybe. But still, I wish I could tell him. I'm worried. He hasn't showed up anywhere since that night." _What if something else had happened to him?_

"It's only because of the Gate," Al reasoned. "It doesn't want him to connect to us, right? It's blocking him to separate us. In all other ways, Brother is fine."

Alfons lifted his gaze. "I've never missed someone as much as I miss your brother, Al. I can't even begin to explain how much I regret that I didn't listen to you from the first day we arrived this world."

Al went silent.

"But the next prime moon won't be wasted away," Alfons said.

"No, it won't," Al agreed, smiling mildly.

Alfons smiled as well, and felt an urge to hug Al. But he figured that might be a bit out of place.

He was silently amused and very surprised though, when Al moved closer and beat him to the rib crushing. Al's cheek rested against Alfons' shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around his back. Slowly Alfons put his arms around the smaller boy's shoulders to hug back. He was yet again reminded of that even if Al and he weren't the same; they were still very much alike.


	12. Birthday

**AN:** Hello again! I figured you deserved another chapter since you're all so patient with me. Thank you!  
While you wait for the next part of this one, I recommend you to read my **new story**_ Remember Me_. It's also about Alfons, but there's no connection to this story. The pairing in _Remember Me_ is completely crazy, but I would be really happy if you would read and review it. :) _Remember Me_ will have more regular updates because it is FINISHED. 17 chapters. I haven't been lazy, you know.

But first, to this one. Soon stuff will start picking up here, I promise! I love you guys!

* * *

CHAPTER 12: BIRTHDAY

Over the next couple of days, Al fell into a normal and tedious routine. It was strange how normal this was supposed to be, since he had never felt so tired. Even if the load of homework due to Friday was enough to fill a whole month, he still kept getting more homework from the other subjects as well which was due Monday and Tuesday. He'd have to sit all weekend with it if he was going to be able to work on the array at all.

The array was the only thing he wanted to work with, but still he could never do it. When he finally had some time in the evening, he was either too tired and went straight to sleep, or he was simply busy with essays, math homework or other things.

Still he managed pretty well at school, despite practising for Professor Kiehle's periodic table test an hour before it started, and writing the conclusion of his essays in the recess before English class started. It went around by a hair. Neither did it help that he felt nervous wherever he went because of Brad. He knew he had nothing to fear from the guy in particular, but he just couldn't help it. He thought Brad might be the reason why most of his other classmates always ignored him and never tried to really get to know him. His good mood was slipping every time he thought about it, or whenever he felt stressed with school work (which was most of the time) and it was of course noticeable on the outside. He knew Alfons was starting to wonder what was going on.

Sometimes Alfons came into his room in the evening, asking him about school. Al simply answered that everything was fine. These things weren't a _real _problemto him! He simply couldn't classify these things as that; not compared to what he had been through before, or even compared to what Alfons Heiderich had been through. Compared to that, a simple school situation should be easy as pie and not worth complaining about. Al knew he didn't even know everything regarding Alfons' time in Amestris yet because of his amnesia, but he knew Alfons had intentionally not told him everything about the time they lived together in his world. Al hadn't asked either, not because he wasn't curious, but because he knew Alfons probably had a good reason for not telling him about it. It had probably been something traumatic.

He had often noticed how Alfons would be constantly on guard, and always hesitating for a long time before letting it go and trusting people. It happened whenever they were outside, shopping in the local grocery store or running some other errands in the city together. Like he was always expecting people to be cruel to him. Al didn't like that his friend felt that way, but he figured, he wasn't the only one who was adjusting to this world. Alfons was too.

It was Monday at noon and Al slipped down on a chair by an available table in the cafeteria with his tray of food. Today's menu was lasagne, which had become one of his favourite dishes in this world since Alfons had made it for him the first time he tried it.

Mei sat down opposite of him, wearing a very pink knitted sweater with too long sleeves. "The world is so big!" she said randomly as she sat down.

Al looked up, starting to get used to it. "My half-brother said once that this world is actually quite small, compared to many other things." He'd actually started to look on Alfons as a brother, it wasn't just a cover up anymore.

"It's big enough that people think they can hide from everything," Mei replied. As on cue, Xiao Mei showed up from the neck of her sweater and settled on her shoulder. Mei offered the panda a bite of her lunch, which the little animal happily ate.

Al sighed a smile. "What makes you say that?"

"People hide from things they don't want to face, like when school-tired students stay home in bed when they're not sick, or when grownups leave on vacation to the Canary Islands when they want to let go of their routine for some weeks," Mei said in a light tone, picking idly at her food. "There's always something to avoid, but sometimes these things are unavoidable. It's sort of what people call fate. Isn't that why you came to America?"

"You think I came here because I ran away from something?" Al surmised sharply.

"Yes," Mei said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was?

"It's not the reason why _I _came here," Al said defensively. "But... possibly that was the reason why Alfons wanted to go. He wanted to protect me."

The smaller Chinese girl stared worriedly at him with her large, ebony eyes. "Are you in danger?"

Al scoffed and shook his head. "Not that I know of." _Wasn't that a lie? Why did he always have to lie?_ "Anyway, I don't really believe in fate."

_Now you're starting to sound like your brother_, Schiller commented inside his head.

Mei shrugged and took a small bite of her lasagne with her fork. "Fate doesn't always have to be decided for everyone. It's just a word we use for luck or unfortunate future happenings. This cheese is a bit runny." Xiao Mei wrinkled her nose, as a response to that.

Al ignored Schiller and smiled of Mei's random addition. "Where does the panda come from anyway?"

Mei beamed. "I brought her with me when I moved here. She's cute, isn't she?"

Al chuckled. "Yeah, definitely."

"We're always together," Mei said and patted Xiao Mei's head.

Al suddenly became aware of some gasps and worried comments a few tables away, and turned his head curiously to see what was going on. He rose quickly as he noticed someone lying on the floor. Was someone hurt?

The person laid on his stomach and people around him tried to get in touch with him. Al hurried over to the scene, getting more alarmed as he noticed who it was.

"Ling!" he called out. "Ling?"

The older boy laid face down on the floor and didn't move. Al knelt next to him and shook him gently. "Ling, are you okay?"

Then a loud noise was heard. From Ling's stomach.

"H-Hungyyyy..." Ling managed.

Al raised his eyebrows. "Is that it?"

"Fooooood," Ling whined.

Al sighed and tried to pull him up. "Come sit with us, I'll share my lunch with you."

Immediately Ling leaped up to his feet. "Really! That's _so_ nice of you!" He rushed over to the table and sat down before Al's food, happily starting to eat.

Al sat down again and watched him. He had never seen anyone devour a meal like that. At least, Ling could give his brother some serious competition. Mei looked at Ling in disgust and crossed her arms, clearing her throat.

Ling glanced at her with a goofy grin. "Hello!" he said.

Mei kicked him in the leg.

"Ouch!"

Al blinked. He had never seen Mei angry before.

Mei glared at the Chinese boy. "Ling Yao, where are your manners?! You just ate all of Alphonse's food!"

"He said it was alright," Ling said.

"I didn't know you guys know each other?" Al said slightly confused.

"Mei Chang, is this how you treat royalty?" Ling whined.

Al raised his eyebrows, even more confused now. Who was royalty? Anyway, he'd never noticed any relation between the two. Except that they were the only Chinese people on the school, as far as he knew.

"We know each other. A little," Mei said vaguely.

Ling kept gobbling away at Al's food like nothing in particular was happening.

"He said something about royalty?" Al asked, unsure if he'd even heard right.

"Yes," Mei sighed. "He's a prince."

Al gaped and stared at Ling. "You're… a prince?"

Ling simply smiled a cunning smile. "Of course I am. It's a long story. This lasagne is great!"

Al pouted. "If you're really a prince, why are you're eating all my food?"

"I was hungry! Princes do get hungry too, Alphonse," Ling informed.

Mei had taken out her cards and spread them on the table.

"What are you reading into now?" Al asked, glancing at her.

"You mean who," Mei corrected.

"Ah. Who then?"

"Ling Yao," Mei replied. She kept her eyes closed and held her hand over the cards without picking one.

Ling paused eating for a second and stared curiously at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm reading tarot cards," Mei replied.

"Hmm," Ling said, rubbing his chin. He was silent for a long time, and Al just knew from the silence that Ling was inspecting her flow of ch'i, the way he had done with him. "Oh, I remember. Like you did when those guys were about to beat up Alphonse? I did not know you could do such thing."

"Ling..." Al said in a slight complaining tone. He was still embarrassed about that.

"That's right," Mei said. "The cards told me you would come to help him."

"Oh really?" Ling said, looking both amused and sceptic at the same time. "What more did they tell you?"

Al gave him a look, warning Ling against making fun of her. Mei opened her eyes and turned her head to stare peculiarly at Ling. "You had the Prince of Wands over you. He's an enthusiastic person who swoops into situations he finds interesting, and likes credit for his actions. The suddenness over him hides a deep sense of morality and honour, and he is always ready to protect others." She looked at Al. "The Prince of Wands often shows up to show you that an important person will be either leaving your life or coming into it."

Al's eyes widened.

"Sounds interesting!" Ling said cheerfully and started eating again like another Edward. "I sound like a very cool guy. And the cards says I'm a prince too, do you believe me now, Al?"

"Which important person?" Al asked before he could even stop himself, ignoring everything else for now. "What do you mean _leave_?" But right after the questions had slipped out of him, he regretted it. Mei couldn't answer these questions… No matter how talented she might be.

"Someone close to you," she said. "By heart and soul."

_His brother?_

Al sunk a bit together in his seat. Would Edward come back, or would he leave forever? What if he'd already left? He didn't want to think about it. There was no way he was gone! He was way too determined. Al decided to push away the grim thoughts.

"Tell me something more about _me_," Ling cooed.

Mei shrugged. "Close your eyes and pick a card then."

"Cool," Ling said and did as she said. He let his hand trail over the half circle and Al regarded him, wondering if he would feel something the way he had when he had picked one. Suddenly Ling's brow furrowed and he picked up one. "Strange," he muttered. "I've seldom sensed a strong ch'i akin to this one."

"The cards have ch'i?" Al asked in wonder.

Ling nodded. "There's ch'i in everything, human or not." He looked at his card. "This one resembles my own the most, I think." He gave the card to Mei, showing an old man standing alone and trapped between walls of rocks, though streams of light was shining through the rocks and hitting his body.

"The Hermit," Mei said.

"What?" Ling complained. "The cards say I'm some sort of a loner? That's not true."

"You came here from China, alone with your goal," Mei said.

Ling shut up and stared at her with narrow, slanted eyes. "What do you know about that?"

"You have walls around you because you have a big secret you yet haven't shared with anyone," Mei said, regarding him. "When the Hermit shows up, it tells that you're on a journey for a particular reason, but you're intending to go back to your origin once your intentions have been fulfilled."

Ling had stopped eating again and didn't say anything.

"The light that shines on you is the wisdom you're gathering on your journey. It comes in small portions at the time, but eventually the streams will be big enough for you to break through the walls. But if you don't choose right, the walls will collapse and crush you," Mei said and continued eating.

"What, saying that so carelessly?" Ling muttered drolly.

Al had gotten curious. Ling didn't deny a single thing of what she had said. What was his secret? Why was he only in the US temporary? If he was really a _prince_, then why would he travel so far alone? But he didn't ask him about it since Ling feigned having forgotten about the whole conversation already and continued eating eagerly.

"I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for," Mei went on. "I think you two might be supposed to help each other."

"Interesting, indeed," Ling said and finished his food, standing up from his chair in the same instant. "See you in class tomorrow, my friend."

"Okay, bye," Al said. Something wasn't right here. How exactly did these two know each other? Though, it seemed like neither of them were interested in elaborating on that one.

Mei gathered her cards back together. "Next class is Biology."

_Hurray,_ Al thought dully.

* * *

As he went home late that afternoon it was already close to dark again. Al couldn't wait until spring; then the days wouldn't seem so short. When he got home he had to start on another biology project consisting in making a DNA-sculpture out of anything. How pointless wasn't that? He wanted to drop the entire thing and rather focus on the array. Maybe Schiller was right. He was becoming more like Edward.

He had at least gotten a couple of hours last night to work on the alchemy circle and he had gotten a bit further on it. But he had never created his own array to make the Gate before, and it had to be perfect. The first time he had opened the Gate was when he and his brother transmuted their dead mother. Biggest mistake of his life. But it had been Edward who had directed the transmutation and his array. Last time he had transmuted a Gate, it had been Thule Society that had provided an array for him to use. Second biggest mistake in his life.

But that's why he needed this array to set everything right again.

He stopped abruptly by the sound of movement in a dark alley right next to him. He listened quietly for some seconds before looking around himself to see if there were any people nearby. Didn't seem like it. He was about to hurry off when he heard the sound again, identifying it as a ruffling of paper, and turned back to the alley.

Out from between the garbage containers a small, stray kitten with golden fur showed up and considered lurking over to him, but didn't seem to have decided whether it was safe or not yet. Al smiled and bent his knees down and reached out an inviting hand.

After some seconds the cat motioned towards him, sniffed at his fingers, before snuggling its small head into his palm. Al stroked its white and yellow fur fancily, noticing how thin and cold the kitten was.

"Are you all alone out here?" he asked softly.

The kitten rubbed its side against his leg and circled back to his hand to get scratched some more behind its ear and purred in appreciation. It seemed young, barely a few months old.

Al fell madly in love with the cat. His brother would never have let him keep it, but for once it was convenient that Edward wasn't around. Al gathered the kitten into his arms and stood up. The cat whipped its tail around, wondering if this was safe, but decided to accept the treatment. He wrapped his arm carefully around the cat to shield it from the cold, but at the same time not startle it. "Come with me," he spoke in a whisper. "You can't stay out here like this."

Al walked carefully and the cat settled comfortably in his arms and kept purring all the way home. He stepped up the stairs and managed to open the front door with his elbow, and let himself into the warmth. "I'm home!" He threw off his boots and met an astounded Alfons in the living room.

Al smiled innocently. "Hi."

"You brought home a cat?" Alfons asked the obvious.

"It was left alone, starved and cold in an alley, I couldn't _not_ bring her home," Al insisted. "She'd die out there."

Alfons sighed and stepped to him, regarding the cat in his arms. He lifted his hand and stroked the furry head, the kitten starting to purr again and lifted its head so he could scratch her under her chin. He had to admit, it was a cute little thing.

"All gold," he said softly. "Golden fur and eyes."

Al smiled. "She won't be a bother, right? What can she do? Please, let me keep her."

Alfons stared at him in wonder. Al was begging him to keep a cat? Since when did he decide everything? Maybe he just did. He was the responsible one, wasn't he? Alfons smiled. "I don't mind. But you have to ask if it's alright with Mr. Cotton first, in case he's allergic and doesn't want animals so close to him."

Al nodded in excitement even before he was finished talking. "Thank you, I'll go ask him right away. Watch her while I'm gone, I'll just give her some milk first."

Alfons chuckled as Al hurried past him towards the kitchen counter.

Al put the kitten down on the floor, and immediately it started sniffing around the floor after something edible. He opened the cabinet and found a small bowl and some milk from the fridge. He poured some milk into the bowl and put it down on the floor. The kitten sniffed and then licked at the milk, drinking eagerly like it hadn't seen food for a month.

"Are you sure it doesn't belong to anyone?" Alfons asked.

"Then she would've had a collar with a name tag, right?" Al pointed out. "And she wouldn't have been starved like this."

"That's true. Alright, if it's fine with Mr. Cotton it's fine with me," Alfons said.

Al nodded and run to take his boots back on. "I'll be right back!"

"You're hungry too, right? Want some chicken?" Alfons asked.

"Sounds good!" Al slipped out the door and jogged down the stairs, rounded the house corner and stepped onto the porch of their landlord. He rang the doorbell once and waited impatiently for a reply.

After a half minute or so, Mr. Cotton opened the door. "Ah, Alphonse, what a nice surprise."

"Hello, Mr. Cotton."

"Just get in before all the warmth run out!" The man stepped to the side and beckoned Al into the warmth. "Let's keep the cold out where it belongs."

"For sure," Al replied. "I wanted to ask you a favour, sir."

"Sure thing," Cotton said. "Just come in to the kitchen and I'll make some tea."

"It won't really take long," Al said.

"That's alright, have a cup anyway," Cotton said.

"Alright," Al gave in and smiled.

"Splendid." Cotton trotted into the messy kitchen and put on the kettle. He found two cups and sugar and a variety of tea bags from a small box. "Have a seat."

Al slipped down on a chair by the kitchen table and rested his arms on the table flat. "Thank you, sir."

Oscar gathered the cups, tea and sugar into his arms and carried it all to the table. "I hope you like any of these."

"I do," Al said. "Camomile is my favourite."

"Alfons told me you've started school now. How is that going?" the man asked conversationally. "I imagine it must be a bit of an adjustment to start in the middle of the first year of high school."

"It's okay," Al said humbly. "When I'm not drowning in homework at least."

Oscar chuckled. "Oh yes, I remember those times. It's even more now; it seems to only increase each year. People discover more and more, which makes the curriculum bigger, of course. But sometimes they forget that you have a life too," he said understanding.

"For sure," Al confirmed. "But I manage." He smiled.

"You're a bright boy, Al," Oscar said. "Just like Alfons, I dare say. You haven't considered rocket science to be your field then?"

Al looked surprised at the man. "Rocket science, not really."

"A shame," Oscar smiled. "I can say it's very interesting, but I've worked in the field for many years, from the very beginning you could say." The kettle was done and he rose from the table to go get it. "What is it you plan to do when you grow up then, Alphonse?"

"I'm not really sure," Al replied honestly. "I'll probably take medical studies. I want to help people."

"That's a very noble choice." Oscar stepped back to the table and poured some hot water into his mug. "Is there a special reason?"

Al shrugged. "My brother lost his arm and leg when we were children, and until now he has been wearing metal instead."

"Metal limbs, you say?" Cotton echoed. "That's interesting. That technology must be very advanced, I have never seen anything like it. Did it happen in the war?"

Al just nodded to avoid further questions about the matter. "It can still be improved, I just need to figure out how."

"Doctors can do the most unbelievable things these days," Cotton said. "They can take limbs from dead bodies and sew them onto someone alive who has lost a limb and replace it."

Al stared at him in awe. "Really? But, even so, I think my brother would probably not want that," he said. "He hates the thought about taking advantage of someone else, even if they were dead."

"Your brother sounds like a good man," Cotton said. "I can tell that both you and Alfons miss him."

"We do," Al said sincerely.

"Anyway, what favour were you asking me?" Oscar asked.

"Oh, I found a stray kitten on the way home from school. I was wondering if it's alright if we keep it. Only upstairs and outside, of course."

"Of course you can," Cotton chuckled. "That's not a problem at all."

Al lightened happily up. "Thank you so much, sir," he said gratefully and took a sip of his tea. "I couldn't let it starve to death out in the cold."

"That poor thing," Cotton said. "You take good care of it, Al."

"I will do that," Al smiled. "Thank you for letting me keep it."

"You're welcome, kid. Was that all you wanted to ask me?" Cotton asked.

Al nodded. "Yes. I should go back upstairs soon, Alfons is making dinner."

"Yes, then you should better get going. Alfons is a good boy, give him my regards. I'm pleased that he has started working at the factory."

Al smiled and rose from his chair. "Thanks for the tea." But the second he was on his feet, his head felt suddenly dizzy and his vision blurred. He touched his forehead in confusion and swayed.

"Al? Are you alright?" he heard a distant voice ask in worry.

Before he could reply, his face hit the wooden floor and everything blackened before his eyes.

* * *

"Al? Al, wake up!"

Al stirred and opened his eyes, slowly and squinting at the light. Someone was lightly shaking him and he parted his lips to tell him to stop, but the words got stuck in his throat. He stared straight up into a pair of worried blue eyes.

"Thank God," Alfons sighed in relief, noticing that he was coming to. "Are you okay?"

Al twisted his head and stared confused around the room. He was lying on the couch in Cotton's living room and Alfons was kneeling next to him.

"What happened?" Al asked, his mouth feeling dry. His head was throbbing and his body felt numb and lax. He felt like he had a vicious hangover.

"Cotton called me some minutes ago. He said you just collapsed." Alfons stared worriedly at him. "How are you feeling?"

Al sat up on his palms and took some deep breaths. "Did I pass out?"

"Yes."

Oscar Cotton came into the living room, carrying a glass of water. "I'm glad you've come to, I didn't understand what was wrong with you." He handed the glass of water to him, and Al slowly accepted it.

"Are you alright or should I call a doctor?" the man asked in concern.

"Maybe you should," Alfons said.

"No, there's no need," Al disagreed fast. "I'm okay, just a bit nauseous. Maybe it was something I ate, for lunch at school or something. Mei said the cheese was a bit runny," he babbled. Truth was he hadn't eaten that much. He was probably focusing too much on the array and school work.

"Alright, I won't make you," Cotton said kindly and laid a hand on Al's forehead. "There's no fever, so I guess you'll be just fine once you eat."

"Thank you, Mr. Cotton," Alfons said, feeling unsure but also impatient to get some food into Al. "Shall we go, Al?"

Al nodded.

"Just call me if anything happens," Cotton offered as they went out the door, Al still swaying a bit and Alfons held onto his shoulder for support.

"I appreciate your concern," Alfons said. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, sir."

"Yes, we will. Take care, boys!"

As Cotton closed the door behind them, Alfons supported Al back up the stairs. "Are you sure you're alright, Alphonse?"

Al nodded. "Yeah." He felt a bit embarrassed. "I don't normally pass out on people."

Alfons chuckled. "No, so don't start now. I had to turn off the stove while I was out, but the dinner will be ready soon."

Al stomach made an appreciating sound. Maybe there had been something in that lasagne at lunch today that had backfired on him, but he felt a bit better now. He slipped down on the couch, soon accompanied by a furry, golden creature poking experimentally at his cheek.

"Hey kitten, did you miss me?" he smiled and petted her head. "You can stay here as long as you want."

Alfons smiled and continued with dinner. "It already seems quite attached to you, so I guess we wouldn't have had any choice anyway."

Al shifted onto his back and put the cat on his chest. The little, furry one lied down on him and purred, clawing at his shirt. "We need to go buy food for her."

Alfons nodded. "The grocery store doesn't close until nine, so we'll make it later."

Al sighed. "I have tons of homework, but I'll come with you anyway."

"Hmm," Alfons replied noncommittally. "Are you sure you're feeling well enough? Maybe you should stay at home and get it over with."

"I'm fine, and besides – some of the assignments are totally pointless," Al complained. "If alchemy had worked, I'd just make a stupid DNA-sculpture out of a plastic bag."

The cat agreed.

Alfons chuckled and scratched his forehead. "If you say so. We can go right after dinner so it won't be so late until we get back."

Al continued spoiling the kitten with attention. "What do you say, Goldy? Want to help me get distracted from homework later?"

Alfons smiled and rolled his eyes.

* * *

The days went leisurely by and Al had started to both accept and get used to his new routine. His new furry roommate was an encouragement whenever he felt like going to sleep straight after school. He knew he couldn't afford to do that. The month of February had finally begun, and the prime moon was getting closer.

The kitten had picked out Al's room as its favourite place in the house and Al would always find her lying sprawled out on his bed and waiting for him there when he got home from school. Then he would settle down with homework and then did as much as he needed to manage the deadlines, before switching over to work on his father's codes and the array. In the coding he found a lot of things he already knew because Edward had told him, but even so there were parts of it he found interesting.

If someone from the other, or the _wrong_, world performed alchemy, they would become unstable. They wouldn't be able to control their alchemy, and it would shorten the lifespan of the user. It made Al think about Dietrich, Zolf J. Kimblee's parallel person, and how he had wished to learn about alchemy. But he had also said that other people of this world could be able to do alchemy if struck by the source of energy caused by the Gate during the time it was destroyed. Had someone gotten struck by it? Did someone have the ability to do alchemy in this world, like him, perhaps without being aware of it yet? Or maybe they _were_ aware of it, and waited for the prime moon just like him?

Dietrich had wanted him to help him find these people. Al wondered why. Was Dietrich planning to use them for something? Al wondered what was better, looking into it to be certain of the facts, or simply ignore it. The latter was the most tempting alternative. It would be hard to find someone like that. Al was curious of course, but what good would it do to find these 'chosen ones' anyway? Besides, risking that they used alchemy unknowing of what they were doing at all could be just as dangerous. If they knew of alchemy, they might only hurt themselves or others. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

He hoped neither he nor Dietrich would ever find anyone of these people.

* * *

It was Thursday and at lunch Ling had asked him to meet him in the gym hall after school. There wasn't any martial arts class today, so he wondered what Ling was up to. Al got dressed into his white training outfit and stepped into the dim gym hall. It was never used this late on a Thursday.

The lights came on and Al discovered Ling stepping out of the equipment room.

"Hello! Good you could come today, Alphonse."

Al hesitated. "To be honest, today it's quite a special day, so I can't stay too long."

"A special day?" Ling prodded.

Al shrugged. It was February 3rd. His brother's birthday. Not that there would be a party or anything, but he kind of wanted to be alone when he came home, take a break from homework, and finish the draft of the array to celebrate his brother's 19th birthday his own way.

Ling pouted at Al's silence. "Oh well, don't tell me then. I summoned you here to do some training of course. It won't take too long, I think. Depends how well you do."

"I figured it was something like that," Al said lightly. "Is this some sort of private lesson?"

"You could call it that, yes," Ling grinned and stopped in front of him. "It's been something I've wanted to try out with you for a while. You've improved a lot lately."

Al regarded him curiously. "Thanks, I guess."

"You know, ch'i doesn't just exist inside _people_, but everything that exists. Even the Earth itself has its own ch'i. This energy permeates everything we know and links the parts of our surroundings together. We use this energy for different purposes, not just in martial arts, but also for medical and other artistic purposes."

Al remembered Ling had mentioned that before. "You said ch'i could be used for healing, right?"

Ling nodded. "There's an explanation to why some people can heal physical and mental wounds with this energy." He pressed a finger at Al's shoulder. "The human body has some special, critical points all over, where your ch'i flows through. The main ones of these points function like floodgates and guide the energy around your body. If one of them gets damaged during a fight, your ch'i will struggle to flow properly and damage your system. A healer uses his or her own chi to fill the spot where the flood gate is damaged, which will cause the wound to heal faster."

Al touched his shoulder at the spot Ling had poked him, wondering if that place was one of these floodgates.

"You have to learn where all these points are," Ling said.

"I thought you said this wouldn't take long," Al commented drolly.

Ling chuckled. "That's right. We're going to do a small exercise. If you have improved on feeling my ch'i during our sparring, you should be able to feel your own even better by now. And if you manage to do that, you'll be able to know exactly where your own floodgate points are located."

"Why do I need to know that?" Al asked.

"Because, as your opponent, these points are my targets," Ling said. He went around Al and lifted a piece of black cloth, covering over his eyes and knotted the blindfold behind Al's head. All he could see now was simply black.

Al shifted nervously and swallowed. "What is this for?"

"Don't take it off." Ling took a hold around his arm and guided him across the floor until Al felt the layer of the training mat underneath his bare feet. Still he felt like he was going to hit a wall any second.

"Am I going to fight like this?" Al asked in disbelief. "That's impossible."

"No no, don't say that yet," Ling said, ever so cheerfully, and let go of him. "You're going to try reading my movements by reading my ch'i, and by knowing your own critical spots, you'll eventually be able to guess where I'll try to touch you."

"What?"

Ling laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, only touch you, like this." He poked Al in the shoulder.

Al jerked away, surprised. "Ouch!" It didn't actually hurt, but it felt stronger when it came totally unexpected. "I don't know if I can do this," he muttered.

"Get ready," Ling instructed, ignoring his disapproval. "Listen to my ch'i, I will give you a moment. When you feel that I'm going to attack, you simply dodge or block it."

"Is saying it like that supposed to make it sound easy?" Al asked dryly.

"Come on, give it a go," Ling pressed with mirth in his voice. "This is how you learn."

"Alright," Al nodded slowly and sank down into a defence position. "Wait a sec." He took a deep breath and tried to visualize Ling standing about two meters away from him, how he was getting ready to leap into an attack.

"Here I go," Ling said suddenly and Al tensed.

He tried to listen to Ling's steps, but knew that would be nearly impossible. Ling was always stepping soundlessly around, like he was walking on wind. Al had no idea if Ling was in motion or standing still, but guessed that he would try to go around him and come from behind at first. He whipped halfway around with his arms ready to block, and in the next second he felt a poke at his left leg. He turned again, knowing where Ling's front was now and made sure to not expose his back to him. But in the next moment, he felt a poke at his right arm.

He shot out his left arm to grab Ling's wrist, but he gripped only air, and then Ling was behind him, pressing a finger into his lower back. Al leaped away and turned again, staggering a bit before regaining his balance. "Ling, this is impossible," he bleated. "Even if I _could_ sense your ch'i, I can't read your attack pattern like this." He was only used to read people by seeing their faces, but like this?

"Alright," Ling said. "Switch with me, I will show you."

Al straightened up in puzzlement and removed the blindfold. "Okay."

Ling took the blindfold and tied it around in own head, covering his eyes completely. Al was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to cheat, given that the cloth was pretty thick and wide.

When he was ready Ling nodded at him without going into any defence stance. "Come at me whenever you're ready."

"Alright." Al waited for a moment, experimentally circling around the older boy for a moment, trying to move as silently as he could. Ling simply stood there straight up and down. Al went for an attack from a bit of distance at first, and swung his leg up to hit Ling's shoulder, for kindness' sake avoiding aiming for his face in case he wouldn't dodge it.

But as his foot came closer, Ling reacted and ducked with one knee bent and the other leg straight out to the side to keep his balance and Al's foot swung right above his head. Al went for a closer ranged attack and attempted to poke Ling's chest, but Ling stood up fast and moved to the side, jumping over another instant aim for his calf from Al's leg, and then caught Al's wrist in the air as he tried to clap him on the shoulder.

Al took a deep breath. His attacks had been quite fast, still Ling had constantly dodged away or stopped his attacks. With one wrist still captured he swung his leg up towards Ling's face, not going easy on him this time. Ling swiftly lifted his other arm and blocked Al's leg with his forearm with enough strength to stop the force of Al's leg.

Al stared at him in awe. "How do you do that?"

Ling's mouth smirked. "I've told you. I'm reading the activity of your ch'i." He let go of Al's arm and dropped down on the mat, his legs crossed Indian style. "You think too much. You forget to focus on my ch'i."

Al dropped down as well and watched Ling untie the blindfold. "I'm not used to work with this kind of... energy I guess."

"What else is there?" Ling said. "Most people aren't even aware of it."

"Alchemy," Al said.

"Does alchemy have a connection to ch'i in your world?" Ling asked interested.

Al was still surprised how easy Ling had believed him in that department, without thinking that he was crazy. "I think ch'i is the same as the energy alchemists use to empower a transmutation," Al said. "We use that energy to deconstruct and reconstruct matter into something else."

"That is indeed interesting," Ling said in awe. "I wish it worked in this world too."

Al just shrugged.

"Was it possible to," Ling started slowly, "heal sickness with alchemy?"

"Not entirely, I think," Al replied. "Alchemy is still developing though, even if it has existed in my world for centuries, and it's used a lot in medical treatments, but it can't heal either a cold or cancer like it was nothing."

"What about wounds and such?"

Al nodded. "I closed a gunshot wound with alchemy once. It didn't heal it properly, but it avoided a life-threatening condition."

"Wow," Ling applauded. "That's pretty amazing! I wish I could see alchemy for real."

"That's impossible," Al lied. "If it had worked, I could've gone back to my world."

"Oh, I see." Abruptly Ling leaped up on his feet again. "Now, shall we try again?"

Al sighed through a smile. "If I have to."

Ling tied the blindfold back around Al's head, and he was again stranded in a darkness that felt claustrophobic on him, but he tried to ignore it. He took some new deep breaths as Ling stepped away and readied himself as well.

"On your signal," Ling said.

Al nodded. "Alright, go."

Ling's energy flow was close, and Al forcefully forgot everything about techniques and darkness, and focused on it. It was flowing from point to point inside its container like small, blue rivers of energy. Almost like the blue sparkles visualizing whenever he performed an alchemy transmutation.

He received some quick raps across his chest, his shoulders and whenever he reached to catch the attacker, he caught only air. Taking another deep breath, Al relaxed slowly and leaned forward on one leg, keeping his feet parted for balance. If he could only block one of these attacks, he would be satisfied.

He felt another poke behind his shoulder, trying not to let it make him lose his focus entirely. Suddenly he felt the flow grow stronger and one point, and he twisted halfway around and shot out his arm in defence, succeeding in catching Ling's wrist as it had attempted to hit his stomach.

"Well done!" Ling complimented. "You feel the difference? When you embrace what's within yourself, you can do almost anything." He smiled, looking proud.

"Yes," Al breathed out. "But I don't know if I'm able to do that again right now."

"Nah, this practise is tiring on both the body and the mind," Ling said. "That's why I said we wouldn't do this for too long. I think we can call it a day now."

Al stepped back and removed his blindfold, squinting a bit at the sharp light. "Tell me one thing, was it ch'i that told you I have more than one soul inside me?"

Ling nodded. "In a way, yes."

"Then how come Teacher and the students couldn't sense it?" Al asked.

Ling smiled a crooked smile. "Because, they've only learned to sense the ch'i of the body, not the ch'i of the soul." His smile faded. "And, there's not only Mr. Schiller I can sense. There's someone else too, but this one is faint. Not whole. He can't reveal himself."

"Do... Do you know if..." Al started hesitantly.

"What?"

"Do you know if he's alright? The faint one."

Ling slowly shook his head. "No, I can't tell."

Al nodded. At least he was still there somehow. Ed wasn't gone! That was better than nothing. "I see. It's... It's his birthday today. I need to get going."

Ling crossed his arms with a thoughtful expression and nodded. "Alright. I'll see you later, Al."

"Yeah. Bye Ling." Al headed for the wardrobe in a hurry and changed. He didn't know if being this honest with Ling was a good idea, but still he trusted the guy. It was nice to have someone else who knew – other than Alfons Heiderich. But when he thought about it, Alfons didn't really know about Schiller being conscious inside him. He wondered how Alfons would've reacted to that.

Was his brother really alright? Even if he had had to convince Alfons of that several times already, he still had to convince himself sometimes too. He wished his brother had been home already, waiting for him to tell him 'happy birthday'.

Al couldn't wait to get home and lock himself up, lie down in bed and either solve codes or sleep, accompanied by Goldy. She always showed that she had missed him whenever he got home.

He hurried out of the school area with his bag on his shoulder and continued down the street. The semi-dark sky was cloudy and grey like always, and the snow consisted in dirty piles everywhere.

He was about to pass by a shop when a boy came out, stopping in amused surprise by the sight of him, and Al stopped abruptly as well by instinct.

"Well, if it isn't the middle-schooler," Brad chuckled hollowly. He stepped down from the porch of the shop and blocked the way for Al. His friends came out of the store as well, grinning at him. Their breaths smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. The age limit didn't seem to have much effect on them.

Al glared at them and tried quietly to slip past Brad, but he moved to block for him every time he tried to get through.

Getting annoyed, Al glowered up at him. "What do you want? Leave me alone."

"I don't think so," Brad grinned. "Get him."

Al didn't realize that the last words had been directed to his friends, before he was attacked from behind and the guys grabbed a hold of his arms. Before he managed to struggle, the pulled him backwards, and Al was unable to keep himself up on his feet. "Hey, let me go!" He wriggled, realizing that they were pulling him into an empty alley next to the store.

With a short gasp, he was dropped down on the ground on his back and Brad followed by pressing his foot onto his chest while his friends removed Al's bag from him and started rummaging through it.

Al scowled and tried to knock Brad's leg off of him, but Brad moved to step on his right arm as well. The pain of the weight sent shivers of agony through his nerve system and made his vision swim for a moment. He was still pretty worn from the training session. Damn it!

Brad bent his knees down until he was sitting on top of Al's chest and pinned his elbows down on the snowy ground with his knees. "Why don't you just get the hell out of here, Elric?" he suggested callously. "No one wants a little German kid around, thinking that he's all smarter than everyone else, isn't that what you think you are?"

Al gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain. "You know nothing about me. Get off me." He tried to struggle free and lifted his head off the ground in attempt to get some leverage to twist out of the pinch, but only received a hard punch as a result and Al let his head drop back into the ground with a gasp, tasting the blood running from his nose.

"I know enough," Brad spat. "You don't deserve to be in that school, both you and that retarded bitch you're hanging around with."

Al felt his anger boil by hearing someone talking about Mei like that.

"I will make your life as miserable as I can, shrimp, and I'll enjoy every second of it." Brad grinned. "If you try to blab to anyone, I will do the same thing to your girlfriend."

Al gritted his teeth and struggled. It was like he had forgotten everything his teacher and Ling had ever taught him about keeping himself cool and read ch'i. All he could pull off was an Edward-like attitude of furious squirming. "There's absolutely nothing you can do to make my life miserable," Al gritted annoyed. "You might piss me off, but that's it. I still pity you for not having anything better to make use of your time."

Brad snorted. "We'll see. Goodnight."

Al received a hard blow against his head, and his conscious slipped the hold of his mind, into a black pit of darkness.

* * *

He woke up not too long after, feeling cold to the bones and hurting all over, realizing he was still lying in the alley. But he was alone now. He turned around on his side with a quiet groan and touched his aching nose. The blood had dried on his upper lip. A few meters away his bag lay upturned and his books lay thrown around in the snow.

Al shuddered as he crawled back up to his feet, feeling dizzy and nauseous. He gathered his books and stuffed them back into his bag. He had to dry them somehow when he got home, if they weren't already too ruined to be used. Brad's friends had taken the little amount of money he'd had on him, but that was the least of his concerns.

He staggered home, his mood down in the dumps. All he wanted to do was to close himself up and sleep. Brad pissed him off so much, he couldn't even begin to think! What the hell was wrong with this guy? From the first moment Al met him he had simply acted cruel to him without any particular reason. Maybe the reason why was simply that Al was small and looked weaker, and being German was obviously a bad thing as well, even if it wouldn't make any difference if he told them he wasn't.

This mess was all so _stupid_ and _unnecessary_ and was the last thing Al needed in the middle of all the school assignments and the worry he felt for his brother. Al felt like he needed his brother back now more than ever.

He reached home before he even knew it, stomped up the stairs, ripped open the front door and unthinkingly slammed it shut, still boiling in frustration.

Alfons showed up in puzzlement as Al kicked off his boots. "Al, is something wrong?"

"NO!" Al shouted.

Alfons stared sceptically at him. "Now you're lying." His eyes misted of worry as Al strode past him and headed for the bathroom. "Are you bleeding?"

"Yes," Al grated.

"Why?" Alfons stepped after him. "Did someone hurt you?"

"Just mind your own business and leave me alone, Alfons!" was the annoyed reply.

Alfons stopped confused as the bathroom door was slammed shut and he heard the sound of water running. Something had obviously happened. Despite that Al had been mad at him before, he rarely saw him this worked up and to such an extent that he let his problems out on him without telling him what was wrong. He sighed and crossed his arms. "Al, just tell me what happened."

"_Nothing_, okay?!"

Alfons leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door, wondering what to say. _Nothing?_ That was just about as far from the truth as it could be.

"It... It was just this guy from school," Al muttered then, and Alfons frowned, slowly coming to understand.

A guy from school? Alfons had never thought of the prospect that there would be people at school Al didn't get along with. Just how serious was this? Did Al have trouble fitting in at school?

"Al, it's Edward's birthday today," Alfons said softly, kindly changing the subject.

"I know what day it is." The reply was still sharp.

"I made a cake," Alfons said. "I went off work an hour early. I wanted to surpr—"

The door went up abruptly and Al stomped out, the blood gone from his face but his cheek still looked a bit swollen. Fierce, bronze eyes stared up at Alfons, filled to the brim with unwanted tears and Al took a deep breath. "I'm _NOT_ celebrating that my brother isn't here! Eat it yourself!" Then he disappeared into his room and slammed the door shut.

Alfons groaned and rubbed his eyes. Al was clearly having a _very_ bad day. It didn't really make his either. The cat had hid itself underneath the couch the minute Al stomped through the front door, obviously sensing the bad atmosphere. Now she was peering out from her dark hiding spot for a bit and meowed.

Alfons stepped slowly to the couch and curved down on his knees, and carefully lured the cat out. Knowing how much Al had gotten attached to this cat, it seemed only natural that she was the only one who could cheer him up a bit. Alfons picked her up and muttered: "Sorry kitten, but I'm leaving this one to you." He stepped quietly over to Al's door. It didn't have a lock on it, so he opened the door carefully and peered in through the crack.

Al lied on his bed on his stomach with his face buried into the pillow. He must have heard that the door opened, but neither of them spoke. Alfons put the curious cat down on the floor inside Al's room and gently closed the door. Maybe Al would be in the mood for some cake later.

* * *

The life he had gotten so far in this world played before Al's eyes.

_The first snowfall of impossible change. Familiar faces of people he didn't know. New nightmares to challenge sleep. New friends to feel safe with. New enemies to haunt him. _

Now he was feeling like he couldn't accomplish anything anymore. Just because he had let someone from his class get through to him.

Al looked up from his pillow by the sound of a low mewing, and the golden cat leaped up on the bed next to him.

Ling had taught him that when embracing what lied within, the potential would become limited. The future was filled with promises, but he didn't know if they would be kept. The present was filled with expectations from him that he'd taken upon himself. And whenever he denied his instincts, and struggled against his deepest urge, the uncertainty began. It was eating at him.

Could he bring his brother back? When would this be over? Was the ability of alchemy in this world a gift or a curse? The most important question of all... Was it really possible to change what was real?

The cat snuggled into the crook of his elbow and lied down close to him, close to his beating heart. Al closed his eyes and calmed down. Deep breaths. Since when did he let such simple matters come in the way of what _really_ mattered? He couldn't start to doubt himself now.

"Brother," he whispered. "When you get back, we'll eat Alfons' cake."

* * *

He hoped Al was feeling a bit better. Meanwhile, he was resting against the counter on the kitchen, staring at the cake. It was chocolate cake. He had promised Edward to make one for him countless of times, but he had never gotten the chance. He wished he had gotten some time for it before they got separated. He realized, he didn't even know what Edward's favourite cake was.

He turned around and leaned his palms against the counter, letting out a quiet sob. "I miss you so much," he whispered. His eyes fell on the calendar over the stove. Twenty days left.

Twenty days.

The presence was there before he could even recognize it, brushing against his back and wrapped its invisible arms around him from behind, breathing softly against his neck.

Alfons stiffened, eyes widening. "Edward?"

"_Thanks for the cake,"_ Edward's voice murmured inside his heart.

Tears welled up in Alfons' eyes as he turned around, seeing Edward's soul standing there and smiling softly at him.

"You're back," Alfons whispered. "I haven't seen you since..."

"_I know,"_ Edward said. _"I'm sorry I haven't been able to reach you lately."_

"No, listen," Alfons said fast, not wanting to say this, but he had to. "You have to stop coming here."

Edward frowned at him.

"The Gate was torturing you... I can't stand knowing you'll get hurt, I feel it in my nightmares," Alfons whispered, droplets of silent tears falling from his eyes. "Can you promise me, don't go up against the Gate. I don't want you to get hurt even more."

Edward was staring thoughtfully at him. _"But... I don't care about that. I want to see you and Al whenever I can."_

"I know, but it isn't safe... I'll make another promise to you as well," Alfons said, smiling softly. "The next time we see each other, it'll be _real_."

Twenty days…

"_How can you be so sure?"_ Edward asked, sounding slightly concerned at those words.

"Trust us," Alfons said, lifting a hand and pressed against Edward's chest, only to find out that his hand was slipping right through him. "In twenty days," he whispered, "we'll see each other again for real."

_Edward mused for a moment, taking the words in. "I like that promise,"_ he finally said. _"I guess it's a deal."_

Alfons sighed and hugged around the ghost of Edward. He would never see him in this form ever again. It hurt, but it was for the best.

Edward's ghostly lips met his, and they kissed goodbye, hopefully for the last time, and Alfons whispered quietly: "Happy birthday, Edward."


	13. Injustice

**Hey, you guys, my lovelies.** This story reached 100 reviews and you're all so awesome! Thank you so much! But I gotta tell you, honestly, I'm struggling with writing this story. You can probably tell, especially if you've been reading since the first chapters came out – years ago! As we speak I am writing chapter 15, so the posted chapters are catching up to the ones that aren't yet written.

I'm still determined to finish, and I really appreciate that you're still rooting for this, but I will need some encouragement to do it. Every small comment counts, so please let me know what you think at the bottom of this page! Again, thank you all and enjoy this next chapter!

* * *

CHAPTER 13: INJUSTICE

The following day, going to school was the last thing he felt like doing, but still Al went anyway. He couldn't afford to miss any classes and besides, he didn't want Brad to think that he was successfully making his life miserable. Brad wasn't worth any of Al's concern, Al tried to convince himself of that. He had much more important things to worry about! However, he failed to keep a low profile the minute he ran into Mei in the hall, because she became immediately frantic by the look on his injured face from yesterday. He successfully managed to shrug it all off since the time was short before class started.

In Chemistry class Professor Kiehle handed the students back their periodic table test.

"The result was highly disappointing," the Professor stated crossly. "I expected more from you. Only a couple of you sniffed towards an A. There will be as a new test tomorrow, on the subject of today and I expect at least half of you to get one grade higher than you did today."

The class groaned in disapproval.

Al got his paper back and Kiehle went past him even without offering him a single acknowledging look. Al remembered how Professor Kiehle had challenged him to be less of a slacker than his brother, though he couldn't really picture Edward as much of a slacker when it came to school work. His brother was simply too smart for that. Al stared down at the A- on his paper and smiled a crooked smile. Every question and the elements plotted into the periodic table had gotten a point, so he didn't really know what the reason for the minus was. Oh well.

Mei had her cards spread over her desk and hadn't looked at her grade yet. She picked up a card and sighed. "The wheel of fortune can go both ways. I don't feel that lucky today though."

Al snapped her paper from her desk and looked at it. "For once you're wrong. You got an A- too. Just for the record, I don't think professor Kiehle gives anyone a straight A."

Mei glanced at him worriedly, still not entirely convinced that he was all right, but seemed to let the matter go for now. She thoughtfully took her paper back and stared at the front page. "I think you're right." She beamed at him. "I'm better at reading you than myself."

Al wondered about that as Professor Kiehle ordered the class to become quiet and went on with the lecture.

* * *

At lunch he settled down with Ling since he was sitting by a table, fortunately eating his own food this time. He grinned at him and waved. "Wow, Al, have you been in a fight?"

Al guessed people would be referring to his blue eye and split lip for some time from now on, and dropped down on his seat with a small sigh. "I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.

"Don't tell me there were the same meanies I saved you from at the time we met?" Ling asked, feigning confusion that Al had come out of it in such state. "I know how strong you are by now, you could easily have taken them down."

Al lowered his voice. "There's a reason why I can't, though I didn't actually _let_ them beat me up either." He muttered in addition: "Besides, they took me off-guard."

"Why can't you?" Ling asked. "Are you specially trained or something?" He leant back on his chair with a thoughtful expression. "Or maybe you are some kind of secret weapon?"

Al rested his cheek in his palm and sighed. Funny joke. "Do I look like it?"

Ling chuckled. "Not really. But, not many people your age are as good in sparring as you are."

"Izumi Curtis actually reminds me a lot of my old teacher," Al said with a secretive smile and Ling shuddered.

"She's a tough woman," he agreed. "But the headmistress is even worse."

Al lifted his eyes and gave Ling a quizzical look.

"Olivier Mira Armstrong. She has military background," Ling explained. "Very rare for a woman, and she has taught at the Officer's school. She has made grown up men run crying home to their mothers."

"I don't doubt it," Al mumbled.

Mei joined them with her tray a couple of seconds later. "Hello Ling Yao."

"Hi Mei Chang. Read anything new lately?" Ling smirked.

"I will soon," Mei replied and picked up her fork to try out the spaghetti. "Kind of interesting, isn't it?"

"I think it is. Do you mind reading me again?" Ling asked eagerly.

Mei sent him a suspicious look, but before she could reply someone else spoke up.

"And what do we have here?" a familiar voice said behind Al, and Al immediately knew who.

Ling sighed. "Terrific. Hey Mei, did you just pick a card called the King of idiots?"

"This is none of your concern, squinty-eyes," Brad returned. "I need a word with the middle-schooler and maybe add another decoration to his little baby face."

Al turned around and gave them a hard stare. They had literally mugged him and left him unconscious in an alley yesterday. He was far from comfortable, knowing that they owned no sense of moral. He wasn't really used to this sort of offence from people his age. No one had dared to pick on him while he was a soul in a suit of armour, or at primary school where Edward would've beaten whoever's face in if they tried.

Now it was different. He was on his own. Sometimes he wished he could just use his brother's sense of reason and simply beat them up. But Al wasn't like that, albeit he wouldn't accept the offense either. He had his pride too.

Al rose from his chair before neither of them could say anymore and straightened himself up in front of Brad and his friends, even if his height didn't match theirs by far. "Whatever you want with me, bring it."

In light surprise, Brad and his friends chuckled in mirth. "You volunteer to get beaten up, kid?"

"Stay out of trouble, Al," Ling said serenely from across the table behind him. "The headmistress isn't very tolerant to these kinds of things."

Al didn't listen to him. "I'm not just a kid," he addressed Brad. "I'm tired of dealing with people like you, so let's get it over with once and for all. If you beat me, I'll do whatever you want."

Brad's eyes broadened and shone with amusement. "Sounds good to me."

"But if you can't, you'll leave us alone," Al finished. He had an idea. Kind of. He just hoped it would work and he'd finally be left alone from these guys.

Brad didn't even wait to say they had an agreement. He swung his fist fast towards Al's face, and Al steeled himself as he saw the punch coming. Instead of dodging, he took the punch straight on and the sound of the encounter echoed in his ears and made his blood pound. His head got flipped to the side, but he was able to remain standing.

Ling quickly rose to his feet. "Hey!" He actually sounded angry. "And Al, don't be an idiot. If you think I'm going to get myself into trouble just because of your foolishness, please reconsider."

Al had taken punches from grown up men before. He had felt much worse strikes than this. Still it hurt terribly because his face had already been sore from yesterday. His lip tasted of blood as Brad pulled his fist back, looking awfully pleased with himself. Still, he seemed aware of that Al might have been able to dodge it if he had wanted to, and his eyebrows narrowed a bit in puzzlement, like he was trying to figure out was Al was really up to.

"No, you stay out of this, Ling," Al replied calmly. He spit out some blood on the floor and steeled himself again. His head throbbed a bit, but it wasn't too bad. He could still fight this guy. Even if it had hurt, this guy was messy and lacked proper dexterity. He hadn't learned to fight properly like Al had. He was simply a bully.

"Is that all?" Al addressed Brad. "I might be smaller, but I won't be beaten by one hit."

Brad gnarled at him, but then a big grin played across his face. "You're asking for this, so you're going to get it." Brad went into another attack with his fist, but this time Al dodged it with ease. Looking annoyed, the older boy laid down more strikes, but each time Al moved to the side in the last millisecond, avoiding damage.

Ling sent him an uncertain look from his stance by the lunch table, seeming to not be able to agree with himself in whether or not he should join the fight.

Brad made a new attempt to strike Al, but this time Al caught his fist with his left hand and swung his knee into his right rib. Brad gnarled in annoyance and addressed his friends. "What are you just standing there for? Hold him down!"

With two other guys joining in on the fight, Al let go of Brad and tried to concentrate on three sets of ch'i, not only one. Around them the students in the cafeteria had rose from their seats and stared both in excitement and anxiety at the scene playing out in the middle of the room.

Brad and his two friends charged at Al all at once, and Al immediately took action. He dodged the first attack, blocked the next and kicked to the side before the third attack came.

Ling stepped around the table, ready to forget everything about rules and assist Al, but his arm was held back. He turned around in annoyance, seeing Mei still sitting by the table with her cards sprawled out in front of her, one of them turned up.

"You shouldn't do that," Mei said.

Ling raised his eyebrows. "Why not? You want Al to get expelled?"

"It's okay," Mei said. "I don't think he'll be expelled."

"You don't _think_?" Ling groaned.

Mei smiled a knowing smile. "Just look." She held out the card she had picked out for Ling to see, but somehow he didn't feel reassured. The figure on the card held a double-edged sword against his own forehead.

"Justice, eh?" Ling muttered.

Al shot an elbow behind him, hitting one of Brad's friends right in the face, and the guy stumbled backwards, bleeding from the nose. Before the other two could even touch him, Al went down on bent knees and shot out a leg that tripped the other guy off his feet.

Finally there was only him and Brad left standing. Suddenly he saw the small thing in Brad's eyes he had been looking for. Uncertainty. Brad was starting to wonder if he had anything to gain from this fight, realizing that Al could stand up a lot better for himself than even he could. But it also pissed him off, how that small brat was better than all of them in everything.

Just when Al thought Brad might really give it up, the taller boy charged again, aiming for his gut. Al leaped out of the way, but caught Brad's arm as he moved and twisted it while kicking the inside of his right knee, forcing Brad's knees to hit the ground. Al still had his left arm free, but he had no intention to go further. He didn't want to use his fists against students. No matter how far over the line they crossed.

"That's enough!" a voice ordered firmly. "Break it up, boys."

Al calmly let go of Brad and stepped back. He was caught by the neck by an older man, and immediately recognized him as Professor Kiehle. The Professor caught Brad with his other hand and squeezed so tight that both of them arched their heads back.

"This behaviour is unacceptable for the lot of you," Kiehle scolded angrily. "I will make sure this won't go by unpunished. All four of you, to the headmistress' office. Now."

* * *

It was a busy day at the factory and Alfons was working together with another young assistant of the team he had been assigned to. They were operating from one of the higher levels of the scaffolding next to one of the rockets when he was called by Oscar Cotton from below.

"Alfons, I need you to get down from there," Cotton shouted to be heard over all the other noise inside the factory.

Alfons got up to his feet and leaned over the railing. "Okay, I'll be right there!"

He got a pat on the shoulder from his working partner as he turned to climb down the steel ladder. "Thanks for showing me those techniques, Alfons," he said. "It was different, but a lot easier."

"No problem, Joe," Alfons answered and got down from the scaffold and turned to Cotton, wondering what he wanted with him.

"There's a call for you," Cotton said, a bit of concern written in his voice.

Immediately Alfons turned alarmed as well. He didn't know anyone who was likely to give him a call, least of all at the factory. "For me? Who is it?"

"It's from Alphonse's school," Cotton replied. "You better take it quick."

Al's _school?_ That was the last thing Alfons had expected. Was Al in some kind of trouble? He hurried towards the office to find out what this was all about. He cleaned his throat and picked up the phone receiver.

"Hello, this is Alfons Heiderich."

"Mr. Heiderich, I'm Clara, I'm calling regarding your little brother," a concerned female voice said in the other end.

"What's wrong?" Alfons asked. "Has anything happened to him?" His heart was quickening in his chest. Please, don't let it be anything serious, or he'd never forgive himself.

"I'm sorry for this, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to come over here. The headmistress wishes to meet with you regarding something that happened at school today."

Alfons was completely taken aback. "A-Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Main entrance, 7th floor," Clara said.

"Thanks, goodbye." Alfons put down the phone slowly, before quickly running out of the office. On the way out he met Oscar.

"I'm sorry, sir, I have to go," Alfons said apologetically. "I can work overtime tomorrow."

"It's alright," Oscar said. "Keep your little brother out of trouble."

"I'm trying," Alfons muttered. "Thank you, sir."

* * *

It took him almost an hour to get to the high school. On the way he took every short cut he could calculate out of his familiarity with the big city, and as he reached the entrance gate he was sweaty and out of breath. The school area looked empty and abandoned; most of the students were probably in class right now. He hurried towards the main entrance of the school, feeling deeply worried. Al better not be hurt!

He found an elevator and tried to calm himself down while riding up the levels of the building. Al couldn't be seriously hurt, or else he wouldn't have been called to the office. Maybe he had done something wrong? Alfons had a hard time imagining that as well. The elevator ride felt like an eternity, and he allowed himself a deep breath as it finally stopped on the 7th floor. The doors opened and he stepped out, stepping through a transparent door to the right and found himself by a reception desk.

The woman rose as she saw him with a light smile. Her nametag said she was the woman he had spoken to on the phone. "You must be Alfons Heiderich, Alphonse's brother."

Alfons cleared his throat and easily dropped all formalities. "What happened? Is Al okay?"

"He's waiting for the headmistress to see him. I will take you to him," Clara said. "Just follow me."

"Thanks." Alfons followed her to a door further down the hall which seemed to be an office, and she knocked on the wooden surface.

"Yes, come in," a voice called from the other side, and Alfons frowned by the nostalgic sound of that voice. Where had he heard it before?

Clara opened the door and spoke to the man inside. "Alfons Heiderich is here, Professor."

"Good, I'll take it from here, Miss Becker."

She nodded and gestured to Alfons to walk past her inside, and Alfons stepped into the small office. She closed the door behind him and he was left staring at a man standing by his desk, and a chair in front of the desk occupied by Alphonse.

Alphonse wasn't looking at him, rather miserably down at the floor while holding a white cloth against his nose, and Alfons's eyes lifted to the man he immediately recognized. He gasped. His heart started to race in his chest, but not in the good way, and he felt how the colour disappeared from his face and how the hairs on his neck rose in terror. Before him stood the parallel person of the man who had tormented and abused him back in the other world. Even if he knew that, it was hard to think of this as a different person. Even harder was it to block out the sudden flush over fresh memories visualizing in his mind, and how the voice he had struggled to forget sounded so real.

It felt like a long time ago, yet he remembered everything clear as day. Despite how much he tried to forget. _No, no..._ Alfons clutched his eyes tightly. _Go away. You're not in this world. You don't exist anymore._

"Mr. Heiderich," Kiehle's voice said. "It's nice to see you again. How have you been?" He stepped closer, his hand outstretched to greet him.

Alfons automatically backed right into the door, his eyes wide and his tongue unable to form words. Al straightened up on the chair and frowned at him, noticing the abnormality of his reaction.

Kiehle stopped, looking unsure. "Is something wrong?"

_"Give me a reason not to just kill you right now."_

Alfons kept his eyes closed for another moment. _Calm down, you're too obvious. You're ruining everything. You're being pathetic!_

"No, sir," Alfons opened his eyes and cleared his throat, plastering on a smile. "I was surprised to see you, Professor. The pleasure is mine." He stepped forward and shook the hand the man was offering him while politely bowing his head. "I've taken your teachings into good use." This was his old professor from the University in Romania, _not _the Brigadier General from Amestris. He repeated that in his head a few times.

"I'm delighted to hear," Professor Kiehle said. "I was surprised myself, when I discovered Edward Elric's little brother in my class."

Alfons straightened again and made sure to keep his smile on. "Can I ask, what are you doing here, Professor? Why aren't you teaching rocket science anymore?"

Professor Kiehle closed his eyes and chuckled softly. "It was a complicated choice, Alfons. Believe me, I consider myself both lucky and degraded at my current location. And I could ask you the same. I know you were established in Munich to follow your ambitions. But obviously, you're not working for your own country anymore."

Alfons fidgeted a bit. "That was a complicated choice as well."

"I fully understand," Kiehle said. "The German government is up to something. They offered me a position any scientist could only dream of, but I said no. The next thing I know, someone was after my life and I had to run away."

Alfons' eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't worry about it, I'd rather think of myself if I were you," Kiehle said trivially. "If they find out where you are and what you're doing, they'll probably come to ensure that you aren't giving away precious material."

Alfons felt his heart skip a beating. Oscar Cotton had said the same thing. Just what exactly had he gotten himself into without knowing?

"Anyway, let's drop that subject for now," Kiehle continued authoritatively. "You're here because Alphonse Elric stepped far over the line at school today."

Al immediately went back from studying their faces during the grave conversation, to stare down to the floor again.

Alfons let his eyes wander to him, but couldn't read anything from him of the way he was averting his eyes. His face was a bit swollen and there were stains of blood on the white cloth he had held against his nose. "What happened?" he asked worried.

"He picked a fight in the middle of the cafeteria," Professor Kiehle said austerely. "That sort of behaviour strictly goes against one of the main rules and reputation of this school."

Al picked a fight? Alfons kept staring perplexed at Al. It didn't sound like something Al would do.

"The headmistress is currently questioning the offended side of the quarrel," Kiehle explained.

"Sir, that's hardly fair," Al suddenly said, standing up to his feet. "I'm not the one who started it."

Kiehle raised a hand, which made Alfons flinch. "Sit down!" he addressed Al. "I'm not going to listen to excuses from you. Your turn will come when the headmistress is ready to see you."

Al groaned and flopped down on the chair again. He sent Alfons a slightly pleading look behind Kiehle's back, and Alfons could hardly even begin to understand how he had ended up in this position. He wasn't even Al's real brother, and here he was standing in the position of his... parent? Or guardian? It was a bit hard to grasp. But he was the closest one Al had. If anything, he was Al's only possible guardian.

Still, even if he had known Professor Kiehle from before, being around him now made him tremble. He knew this wasn't the same person as the Brigadier General, but he couldn't help visualising the Professor in the blue military uniform, ready to backhand him. Luckily the Professor hadn't noticed him flinch. This was so messed up!

Suddenly the door knocked and Clara stuck her head back inside. "The headmistress is ready to see them now, sir."

"Thank you," Professor Kiehle said and turned to Alfons. "It was nice seeing you again, Alfons. Miss Clara will show you the way."

Alfons nodded. "Thanks." He turned to Al who slipped off his chair and walked sullenly past him to follow after Clara.

"Depending on your punishment, this better not repeat, Elric," the Professor warned.

With a muttered "yes sir," Al shuffled out the door. Alfons followed after him, trying to shake off the sickened feeling in his stomach. Al didn't remember how the Brigadier General in the other world had really been like. He had intentionally not filled him in on that one. His heart sank a little as he thought about how Alphonse had devotedly supported him at that time, and that he kind of wished that Al remembered it for the sake of their friendship. Still, there was no point telling him. He could handle these feelings alone. He had nothing to fear from Kiehle anymore. All he had to do was to push those memories away, like nightmares that hadn't been real. He could do that.

Clara showed the way to the far end of the corridor to the headmistress' office. "She's expecting you both," she said and knocked on the door two times before entering. Al stepped into the room in a hesitant pace, followed by Alfons.

The headmistress Olivier Mira Armstrong rose from her desk and stepped around it in a strict manner. "Good you could come, Mr. Heiderich. I'm headmistress Armstrong."

Alfons shook her hand, surprised by the firm grip, but didn't let it show on his face. "Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said, though he still wondered about the details. She looked serious.

"Sit down, both of you," she ordered, and Alfons almost got the feeling _he_ had done something wrong as well. He sat down next to Al on the couple of chairs standing in front of the desk and the headmistress sat down behind the desk again.

"I have to admit that I hesitated with accepting you into this school when you applied, Alphonse," she started, cold, blue eyes directed at Al. "You seemed too young, but despite that I made an exception. So far your grades are exceptional, already showing yourself to be one of the best among the other freshmen." Looking annoyed, she rubbed a deep furrow sitting over her left eyebrow. "That is one of the reasons I got furious when I heard of this incident. Do you have something to say for yourself, Alphonse?"

Al stared flustered at her and wondered if she knew everything that had happened, or just what it had looked like from Professor Kiehle's point of view. Or Brad's.

"I was standing up for myself," Al said defensively. "They got what they deserved."

"The way I understand, you provoked a fight and let your classmate hit you first to have an excuse to use your skill in martial arts against them," Armstrong said.

Al was about to argue, but stopped himself. Wasn't that kind of true? But if he had attacked right away, he would've gotten all the blame anyway. And if he had done _nothing_, he'd probably be at the hospital by now. No matter what, Al didn't manage to swallow the lump of pride in his throat and stayed silent. He refused to be some defenceless victim of some stupid bullies!

"Al, is that true?" Alfons asked. He couldn't really imagine Al provoking someone into a fight. Something was wrong about this picture, but Al didn't say anything against it.

"I guess," Al muttered.

"How diplomatic of you," Armstrong said unimpressed. "To be honest, I don't really care what happened. This behaviour is not tolerated at my school regardless of the circumstances, and normally I would've expelled you right on the spot."

Al gasped and stared up at her in shock at that. Expelled? Forever?

"However, for students we see have a real potential, we have other ways of punishment. This school is serious and professional, where no student will get away unpunished for breaking the rules. I needed your guardian with us here today to let him know that this school uses a method of punishment where the students have a guarantee to be coaxed into obedience."

Al thought those words sounded strange, and so did Alfons.

"What kind of punishment are we talking about?" Alfons asked hesitantly.

"The paddle, Mr. Heiderich. The count of strokes depends on the level of disobedience for each student. Alphonse has broken one of our most important rules. _Practised_ violence against another student. The fact that Alphonse has been taught how to fight and misused it only makes the situation more severe."

Paddle...? Al's grip tightened around the armrests of the chair to keep himself from shaking. He could hardly believe what he had heard. Were they planning to beat him? Because he was in the martial arts class?

Alfons looked uneasy as well, but successfully hid it. "I understand."

Al stared at him with wide eyes. Was Alfons just going to sit there and let them beat him? He had been beaten before. His back was scarred from it. That was one of the memories he would've chosen to lose, but still remembered more clearly than anything else. The anticipation of what would happen but never knowing when, the pain shooting up his spine, the inability to suppress the screams...

He didn't want to go through something like that again. Not for something as silly as a small fight in the cafeteria.

Desperately, Al addressed Alfons. "Don't let them do this to me."

Alfons froze. Al had spoken in German.

"They would've picked a fight with me nonetheless, it was the only way I could come up with that could make them leave me alone," Al went on in the language the headmistress likely didn't understand. "I'll rather be expelled than experiencing something like_ that_ again..."

Olivier Mira Armstrong stared strictly at Al with her arms crossed. But she didn't interrupt.

"I'm sorry, Al," Alfons said apologetically, answering in German. "This isn't exactly easy for me to say, but you made a choice and now there's a consequence for it. If you want to drop out instead, you should tell her that." He felt strange saying this.

Al stared at him in shock, eyes blank of disbelief. "No! And you know I wouldn't break these rules without a good reason behind it. I can't believe you're actually accepting this." He took a deep, angry breath. "My brother wouldn't have let them do this to me. He would've understood."

Alfons winced. _Edward..._

Edward would've already been on his feet and shouted out in anger to defend his brother. He would've asked them to punish _him_ instead, to spare Al the pain. Al was right. Alfons knew Al. He wouldn't have used violence against anyone who was innocent. But why couldn't he just tell the whole truth? Maybe the headmistress would've been more humble.

Alfons realized, if he let the school punish Al like this, Edward would be mad at him. Really mad. He had promised Edward to protect Al. That meant, not let anything bad happen to him. And here he was going to let Al get hurt by authorities because of a misunderstanding? There had to be another way.

"Okay, you're right. But you have to tell her everything," Alfons said, still in German. "That incident wasn't a coincidence, right? You've acted strange lately, don't think I haven't noticed. I understand now. They've bothered you several times, but you're too proud to acknowledge it as a real problem compared to what you've been through before, and look at where we are now. This is a real problem too even if it isn't about a life threatening situation. I don't want them to punish you, I know this isn't your fault. But you have to be honest, or else I can't help you." This was typical Edward-behaviour actually. He'd noticed that Al was becoming more and more like his big brother lately.

Al stared at him with wide eyes for a long time. Then he let his shoulders sink and sighed. "Alright," he said, this time in English.

"I understand," Olivier Mira Armstrong said, in German, and both Al and Alfons jumped. The headmistress smiled a crooked smile. "They told me it would be useful to know the language of our enemy during the Great war, and it seems they were right."

Al stared down in the floor, feeling a bit ashamed.

"If Brad Connors has acted like this for this long, I will see to it that he's questioned and taken care of thereafter," Armstrong said in a firm tone, her eyes cold and sincere. "For this time, I will not use the paddle on you, Alphonse. After all, I judge with my own two eyes."

Al took a deep breath, but was careful not to be _too _relieved. It didn't seem over yet, and he was right.

"_However,_" Armstrong continued, "don't think you will get away unpunished for sending two students to the hospital wing. There's still the issue of you being trained and knowledgeable in fighting when your classmates weren't. That's why; I see no other option than to remove you from the martial arts class."

Al gaped. His favourite class... "I- I can't go to the class anymore?" Al asked. "Ever?"

"No," Armstrong said. "If I ever see you perform any kind of martial arts at this school again, I will expel you from the school. Is that clear?"

Al cringed a bit. This sucked. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

"Good. That's all for today." Olivier Mira Armstrong rose from her chair. "You're free to go."

Al rose without another word and headed for the door. Alfons rose as well and bowed politely to the headmistress. "Thank you for understanding," he said.

The small, crooked smile returned to the edge of her lip. "You're welcome."

* * *

The walk back to their apartment was accompanied by a strange and somewhat awkward silence. They went side by side, hands in their pockets and merely listened to the calm breeze playing with snowflakes. Al was still both shocked and relieved by the outcome of the meeting, but had to face that the punishment he had gotten was better than facing the paddle. He guessed he owed Alfons thanks yet again, even if he disliked the thought that he wouldn't be able to attend another martial arts lesson again.

They were almost home when the older boy decided to break the silence.

"Are you alright?" Alfons asked softly. "You were bleeding a bit."

"It's nothing serious," Al replied. "I've been through worse."

"Glad you're okay," Alfons said.

"Sorry you had to leave work because of this," Al muttered. "It was stupid."

"Hey, Al," Alfons said and stopped. "Those kids who were bothering you, will they do it again?"

Al shrugged. "I don't really want to bother myself with them. They annoy me, but they're not worth it."

Alfons suddenly took a hold of his arm, holding him back from walking. "If they do something like that again, I want you to tell me."

Al turned back and smiled. "What, are you going to beat them up for me?" he joked.

"Something like that," Alfons beamed softly. "That's what Edward would've done, right?"

"True, but we both know my brother's ways aren't always the best ones."

Alfons let go of his arm and drew his eyes away. "You're right there."

They came back inside their apartment a couple of minutes later and were greeted by a playful, golden cat.

Al brightened up by the sight of her and picked her up. "How are you, Goldy? Did you miss me?"

The cat meowed.

"She says you forgot to feed her this morning," Alfons joked.

"I did not!" Al dropped down on the couch while cuddling with the attention sick animal. "She says you're stupid."

Alfons sighed as he stepped to the kitchen counter to make some tea. "Oh well, if the cat says so."

Al grinned, but after a second his smile disappeared as he remembered something from earlier. The reaction Alfons had shown as he entered Professor Kiehle's office had been far from normal. He wondered about that, and decided to ask. "You've known Professor Kiehle for a long time, haven't you?"

Alfons put the kettle on the stove and froze. "Since I started University. Why?"

"You knew his parallel person too?"

"I—," Alfons faltered. "Yes, I did."

Al stared at him, waiting for him to say something more. Alfons had obviously had a bad experience with one of them that had scared him, and somehow Al just knew it hadn't been the Professor. In his world, Kiehle had been a Brigadier General and a rival of Colonel Roy Mustang. Al remembered him as a creepy and arrogant man who wanted as much power he could get his hands on. While Alfons had lived in Amestris, he had worked with the military together with Edward, so it made sense that he knew the man. But what had happened between them?

Alfons turned to him, aware of what he wanted to ask. "Al, you don't remember and you don't have to remember it."

"Yes, I do!" Al countered. "I thought you said you wanted to help me fill in all of the holes in my memories. You know they won't come back otherwise."

"But these are _my_ memories too and I envy you that you're the one who doesn't remember them," Alfons retorted suddenly, his voice a lot harsher than he had first intended.

Al shut up by the sudden outburst and watched Alfons take a deep breath, mutter an apology and quickly trail into his bedroom. Al lowered his gaze to the cat in his lap and rested his back against the armrest of the couch. He hadn't really meant to pry. But if he had known about it before, why couldn't he know it now?

* * *

"What?! You're kidding me now, right?"

Ling stared at Al in shock across the lunch table at school on the next day. Next to Al, Mei was sitting with a calm expression and eating her sandwich like the Chinese boy hadn't just gotten half of his own sandwich stuck in his throat during his outburst.

"I'm sorry, but that's how it is," Al muttered. "I'm banned from the martial arts class."

"But I was teaching you," Ling pouted. "Why didn't you just take the paddle?" Al gave him a sharp look at that and Ling tried to laugh it off. "Just kidding," he excused and waved his hands. His slanted eyes went into a serious mode again as Al continued to eat. "So, what are you going to do instead then? You only picked one option."

"I don't know," Al said monotonously.

"You can take French with me," Mei suggested.

Ling snorted. "How gaudy."

"Gaudier than martial arts?" Mei reflected.

"Exactly, because like you just said; it's _art_," Ling emphasized.

"Sure, a vile one that just got Al into trouble," Mei huffed.

"According to stupid school rules, that doesn't mean it didn't come in handy," Ling pointed out. "And that is less important than being a snob?"

"French is almost equally handy as knowing English," Mei countered.

"Then he might as well learn Chinese, most people live in China," Ling quarrelled back, and Al let his face sink deeper into his hands as the point of the whole subject seemed just more and more insignificant. He seemed to be forgotten about already.

"Al just has to find something else for an option, and that's that," Mei concluded.

But Ling didn't drop the subject that easily. "I said, _stupid_ school rules. All rules can be bended, right Al?"

"What do you mean?" Al asked suspiciously.

"We can still train," Ling said eagerly. "We can do it after class as usual, no one would ever know."

Mei stared sceptically at him. "It's safe for you to do it, but if the teacher finds out about it Al will be expelled."

"Mei's right," Al muttered. "I can't risk being expelled for such a stupid reason."

"You call martial arts class stupid?" Ling pouted again. "You want to learn how to control your ch'i, or not?"

Al sighed. He wanted to. It would be useful for the transmutation, and making that transmutation successful meant everything to him. But still, there was the risk of getting into some serious trouble.

"I know what you're thinking," Ling said. "So how about I put it like this: How much do you believe in Mei's fortunes?"

Al sent him a quizzical look before looking at Mei. "I guess, I believe in her. So far, she's never been wrong."

"Good," Ling said. "So she can predict whether or not it will be safe to practise, let's say, for example after class today?"

Al thought about it, and couldn't really believe that he actually thought about it. What if she was wrong for once?

"I don't really know about that," Mei said. "I can't completely control which situation I'm actually reading. It's easier to read people in general and see the situation's occurrence afterwards."

"Then, is Al _in general_ in luck today?" Ling pressed eagerly.

Mei sent Al an uncertain look, but Al had had enough time to dwell and nodded. "Let me pick a card again," he requested.

"Okay, if you want to," Mei said. She spread her cards on the lunch table, in the usual half circle.

Al let his hand slowly glide over each card, though he hadn't even gotten to the end of the row before his hand heated up and suddenly, out of the blue, a tiny blue spark shot up from one of the cards. The three of them jumped, and Al gasped out. What the… Alchemy? Impossible…

"I think you just chose a card," Ling commented in awe.

"What _was_ that?" Mei asked, her large onyx eyes wide. "Lightening?"

Al picked up the card and looked at the image. "A... transmutation circle?" he whispered, feeling shocked. It was a circle, alright. But it didn't look like a transmutation circle. And it wasn't a prime moon either. How could there be a reaction?

Mei plucked the card out of his hand. "Oh my. You got the Wheel."

"The Wheel?" Ling repeated. "Is that good?"

"I guess," Mei said. "It's the Wheel of Fortune. It could go either way though. It's also called the circle of life. But either way, something is going to happen what will make your life change."

"Today?" Ling asked.

"No, not necessarily today," Mei replied.

"Then we're as far as we were before," Ling sighed.

"But, it's a good thing, right?" Al said eagerly. He suddenly felt a bit encouraged. A certain change was coming? It had to mean the transmutation to get his brother back. Everything pointed towards that.

Mei met his eyes. "Possibly. Whatever it is, you're supposed to roll along with the wheel and let it take you where it goes. If you try to go against its way, it will crush you."

"Well, it sounds like all the cards want a reason to crush us," Ling taunted. "I say we challenge your fate and go for a lesson today."

Al's eagerness faltered a bit. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do! Meet me outside the gym after your last class," Ling instructed.

Al rose from the lunch table, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist. "Fine. See you later then." He stalked off towards the boy's bathroom, feeling slightly sick in his stomach. What if these cards didn't show him any fortunes at all? What if he only picked the ones he felt was right for him because of the alchemic reaction he got whenever he touched a circle? Alchemy would always be more scientifically correct than fortunes in his books, no matter which world. All the cards he picked had had a circle on them, and did that mean that Mei's readings weren't right? There had never been a spark before though, that was new.

What about the time she saw a balance between him and his "half-brother", and the certain thing they had to protect between them in their hearts? This certain thing had seemed to represent the two pieces of his brother's soul. That had been believable enough.

He entered the bathroom and stiffened the moment the door closed behind him. Out of one of the stalls came no other than Brad Connors out, who also seemed a bit taken aback by running into him this sudden. For a couple of seconds they both simply stood there, stock still and stared at each other, and Al wondered if he had to break the rules again already – without Ling's help.

Brad snorted. "You should've been expelled for good, twit."

"Speak for yourself," Al replied.

Brad grinned slyly at him. "Tell me, how many did you get then? Did you scream for your mom?"

Al drew his eyes away and scowled, understanding what Brad was referring to. He hadn't been beaten, but he realized he didn't know what kind of punishment Brad and his friends had gotten since they hadn't been expelled either. Still, they had broken the rules as he had.

"I got none," Al replied honestly.

"What?" Brad grated. "Why?"

Al didn't want to tell him that he was restricted from fighting. That might become complicated later, if people knew he would be expelled if he even defended himself, just because he had been trained. "Admit it, I wasn't in the wrong for defending myself after what you did to me. So I simply got suspended from my optional subject."

"That's bullcrap!" Brad roared, his fist hitting the wall so hard Al almost thought he'd break some knuckles. "That's so unfair!"

"You knew the consequences of starting a fight in the middle of the cafeteria too," Al sharply reasoned. "Why are you so worked up about it?"

Brad glowered at him. "Because of you, my friends got beat up by that paddle and you got away with _nothing_! Do you think that's fair?!"

Al's scowl deepened and his eyes drew to the floor. Being taken off the martial arts class was indeed nothing compared to that. That wasn't fair. Even if they had attacked first, they had barely had the chance to touch him. They hadn't really hurt him. _He_ had been the one who had hurt them while fighting, and he was supposed to be the one against violence.

"No," he answered in a low voice. "They didn't do enough to deserve that." He hesitated a bit at Brad's unexpected silence. "They... They beat you too, didn't they?"

"Why do you care?!" Brad hollered. "I'll kill you if you ever dare feel sorry for me! I'm tough, I can handle such things. But I don't tolerate something like that happening to my friends. All of that is your fault!"

"I'm sorry," Al said, feeling really bad now. "I agree, all of this wasn't fair to them."

"Hell it isn't!" Brad replied angrily. "You're probably being treated with silk gloves because you're such a brilliant little kid! I fucking hate you and this entire school system!"

Al flinched a bit as Brad stormed past him, expecting him to charge and smash his head into one of the urinals, but he merely disappeared out the door without another word.

A couple of minutes later, Al shuffled out after his classmate with a big bubble of guilt growing in his stomach. He was familiar with the feeling of wanting to protect the people he cared about without caring if he suffered for it. He hadn't thought he would actually agree with Brad in something, but now he did.

* * *

"Try again, you can do it!"

Ling's voice echoed in the dim and otherwise empty gymnasium. They had left the lights off to be sure no one would see that the hall was occupied. To be on the safe side, Ling kept all of his senses on alert, ready to feel the ch'i of a third person if it should come too close to them. Then he could hide his friend and say he was training alone.

"I can't focus properly right now," Al groaned, standing in a paused stance on the mat on his bare feet and dressed in training robes. "It's my fault that they were punished."

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Ling disagreed. "They picked on you first. They assaulted you on the way home from school. You were defending yourself. Being banned from martial arts is a very strict punishment if you ask me."

"Still, they didn't hurt me," Al said. "Brad hit me once, but that was because I let him. How is that just?"

Ling rubbed his own face in with his palm. "They beat on you one day, they face consequences the next. That is just, if you ask me. Besides, they were behaving like idiots, which isn't exactly a newsflash. They were fully aware of what they were doing was wrong. Just roll with it, okay? You remember what Chang said, right?"

"Roll with the wheel, yeah," Al muttered. "But still... I don't like it." He didn't even know if his fortunes actually _counted_, no matter how good Mei was.

"If you want to master reading ch'i, you must open all your floodgates, remember?" Ling said, steering the subject back on what they were supposed to be doing. "Where are these floodgates located?"

"Inside the heart?" Al tried.

"That's one of them, yes," Ling said. "But there's also the crown, brow, throat, solar plexus, sacral and base. Close your eyes, and picture them as the main canals that lead your energy."

Al closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If he were to do this, he had to let go of everything else. Nothing else than his brother mattered right now. This energy flowing inside him was what empowered alchemy. He was certain of that now. It wasn't so different from how it worked in Amestris. Just a bit more difficult to control. He needed to control it properly so he could use alchemy on a complete level. Unless he didn't do this, the transmutation might fail because he was too weak. He had been weak before, when he had failed to save his brother from the Gate.

He concentrated harder, picturing the blue flow of energy rushing through his system and freed it completely, through his head, throat, his chest and lower stomach.

"That looks very good," Ling's voice said, sounding far away. "Now, fight!"

Ling swung his leg at him, but Al ducked, still with his eyes closed. The second after, Ling charged again by twisting on his heal and attacking with the same leg from a different angle. Al blocked it with a knee up to his chest and twisted his body around on one foot with his elbow ready for a strike against Ling's open chest. The older boy discharged himself from him and bounced back on his hands, making a quick somersault and landed on his feet.

Al moved quickly forward, hunched down and shot out his leg in a spin. Ling didn't have time to jump, and stumbled backwards. As his opponent was losing balance, Al shot forward again and pressed Ling down on his back while efficiently disarming his chances to strike him.

"_Wow, that's pretty good, little brother."_

Al gasped, suddenly feeling another presence inside his heart and he froze.

"_At this rate, you're still going to beat me. I have to watch out for the rest of my remaining dignity as a big brother,"_ Edward teased.

"Brother, what are you doing here?" Al asked, but couldn't help smiling. "I thought Alfons had already told you."

"_I know,"_ Edward said. _"I just felt you so strongly just now... So I just wanted to say..."_

"Not goodbye, right?" Al said, faltering a bit. He would hear nothing of it. "I'm going to get you back! So, there's no reason to say anything!"

"_Ah, yeah,"_ Edward chuckled. _"No. I just wanted to say, see you later."_

"Oh," Al said, feeling relieved. "That's okay. I'll see you later, Brother."

"_By the way,"_ Edward said. _"Why are squinty-eyes staring at me like he can see me?"_

Al quickly turned to Ling. He had completely forgotten that he had been there while talking! Now Ling was staring in shock at him, or more specifically at his ghostly brother. Al realized, Edward hadn't visualized himself like Schiller did. Instead of standing beside him, Edward was blanketing his own appearance, like a transparent reflection outside of him. He was currently standing inside the ghostly appearance of his brother, and Ling could see him as both himself and Edward at the same time.

Ling's lips quivered a bit before beaming as usual. "Hi!" He waved. "Nice to meet you."

"_You too, squinty-eyes,"_ Edward said in mild surprise but then he grinned, seemingly enjoying seeing the foreign boy staring at him in awe and shock.

"Don't call me that," Ling replied, pouting slightly.

"Brother," Al interrupted. "It seems like the piece of your soul inside me starts to run freely when I open the floodgates, like you're within the energy."

Edward shrugged. _"I guess so."_ Then he smiled. _"You're doing great, Al. I'm proud of you."_

"You can tell me that when I bring you back," Al said confidently. Somehow, this energy rush had gotten him in a much better mood. "You should keep yourself out of trouble until I do, okay?"

"_Yeah, yeah, I hear you,"_ Edward grinned, though his expression fell into a serious one as he spoke his next words. _"Be careful, Al."_

"I will," Al said.

As fast as he had showed up, his big brother's presence dissolved and disappeared, and Al calmed down slowly from the rush, feeling suddenly exhausted. He opened his eyes, no longer seeing with his heart.

Ling stilled on the floor, like he had been tense for a moment, and breathed deeply. "Wow, that was unexpected."

"That was my brother," Al chuckled.

"Seems like a determined guy," Ling said. "I'd like to meet him in person one day."

"Hopefully that will be possible soon," Al said softly.

"You suddenly caught on pretty fast," Ling said impressed, a large smile spreading across his face.

"Thanks!" Al smiled and jumped back to his feet. "I think I understand this now. This energy strengthens the body and the soul the moment all of the inner gates are open at the same time."

Ling rolled up onto his neck, and leaped forward to his legs, landing on his feet in a standing position. "That's right. I already look forward to the next lesson, now that you've gotten through the hardest part."

Al bowed in gratitude. "Thank you, Ling, for teaching me this."

Without even knowing it, Ling Yao had helped him one step closer to his brother.

* * *

On the way home that evening, Al thought about the conversation he had had with Alfons the day before. They had barely spoken to each other since Alfons had broken the subject off by escaping into his bedroom to read. Not unlike what Al himself usually did when he wanted to escape unpleasant conversations.

Al sighed. He couldn't help that he was curious. What had happened between Alfons and Brigadier General Kiehle in Amestris? If he had had someone else from his world with him, he could simply have asked. His brother, Mustang, Hawkeye, Winry, Scheiska.

He stopped, eyes wide. Scheiska? Why had he thought of her? He could still feel the light calmness over having his floodgates released, and he wondered if he could use them for something else than alchemy.

Like, _restoring memories?_ One of the floodgates was inside his mind. What if the memories were still in there somewhere, and could be restored while having this floodgate open?

Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that before? Al suddenly got into a thrill of eagerness and ran the rest of the way home. This might work. It would be the only way he had that he could possibly remember something more of what he had recently experienced in his own world. While Alfons had been there. While he first had known him.

The apartment was dark when he came in, and Al turned the lights on in the living room. "Hello?" he called.

No answer. Maybe Alfons was outside for an errand or something. Al stepped into his room and closed the door. He slipped his school bag off his shoulder and immediately sunk into his normal fighting stance, his back bent, feet apart and hands together, and closed his eyes.

Like before, he concentrated all his energy on opening all the seven floodgates. It was exhausting even if he stood still, and it didn't take long before he was breathing soundly and feeling the sweat run down from his forehead. Yet, he refused to stop. He had to try finding out as much as he could, if possible. But it wouldn't work unless all floodgates were open at the same time.

The energy started flowing within him once again, and seemed to be opening easier the second time, despite his exhaustion. Al felt, this time he didn't have to open all of them from the start. The gates from his crown to his heart had already been opened, so he only had to concentrate on the remaining ones.

With a deep breath, the last gate flushed open, and he felt the rushing energy flow through all of his body with free access. He concentrated mainly on the gates closest to his mind, making the energy seek deeper into them. If this ought to work, Al figured there would probably be wisest to think about a person, so the memories of that person would come to light. Since he had randomly thought about Scheiska not long ago, he concentrated his mind on her.

First he saw a clumsy girl with glasses buried in a huge stack of books, before trying to spool things forward. That was too long ago. He needed the freshest memory of Scheiska he could think of. He remembered Rizembool. Scheiska had come to visit Winry after he had been rescued from Thule Society. This was better. If this memory was from _after_ he was rescued, it meant that his brother had come back and that Alfons Heiderich was present somewhere. The girls were talking about something, but the words were unclear. Al gave up on listening to their conversation, and tried moving forward again.

A new memory showed up. This one was very different from the previous one. He was standing in an office in the Department of Investigations at Central Headquarters, and before him Scheiska stood up from her messy desk. Al took another deep breath. Someone else was in the room. That person was standing right next to him, he was sure of it, yet he couldn't turn to see him no matter what. Al was sure, if he had twisted his head just a bit so he could see, the person would merely be a black shadow, or even barely that.

"Is that you?" Al whispered. He tried to listen to what Scheiska was saying.

_"Is something wrong?"_

_"We have a small problem with a certain high-ranked officer in the military," _his own voice stated.

_Scheiska stared earnestly from one to another through her big, round glasses. "It isn't Brigadier General Kiehle, is it?"_

Al's mind reeled. He was onto something. If all the black shadows in his memories were Alfons, it meant he and Alfons had used to have a secret about the Brigadier General, and they had asked for Scheiska's help?

Then Scheiska was leading him and the shadowy figure behind him into a new room, the military archives. Al was observing all he could as he was going through thick volumes of records. Why had he done this? He was certain they weren't allowed to be in there. Were they after to find out something about the Brigadier General?

Al's mind made a sudden halt. Of course. He was possibly looking into useful memories, but the person he had to check out wasn't Scheiska, but of course Brigadier General Kiehle himself. He concentrated again, and pictured the man he remembered as a self-centred and cruel rival of Colonel Roy Mustang.

The first place he saw was Lior. Where he had first met the man. This was way too early, so he spooled forward again. A flash of images in disarray were spinning through his mind until he heard a sound of a light struggle nearby, and he went down a stair to check out what was going on. As he reached a door opening into a hall, his eyes widened as he saw the Brigadier General himself. What was he doing inside his house? Al looked around the familiar place from his mind. Yes, this was where he had lived with his brother. And Alfons too. He just didn't remember that he had ever been there...

Kiehle hadn't noticed him yet. He was pinning someone to the wall in the middle of the hall, and the person was struggling against him.

No matter how much Al wanted to see the face of the person in danger, he couldn't. The figure might as well have been air. But Kiehle was still holding him and threatening him with harsh words.

Al wanted to shot forward into an attack and separate the man from Alfons, but he couldn't move. In the next second, Kiehle turned around and saw him, and his steely eyes glowed of vicious anger. For the first time in this memory, Al could hear coherent words.

"_You will forget that you saw this. Or your brother will be as good as dead."_

Al's eyes shut open and he gasped suddenly as his legs failed him. He crashed down to the merciless floor and remained lying there, simply breathing for a while. For several moments he had to convince himself that the threat was simply the past and that it didn't matter anymore. What he knew for sure now, was that Brigadier General Kiehle had been a very cruel man, and that he had hurt Alfons. In what way he had hurt him, Al still wasn't sure of. But he had known about it while his brother obviously hadn't.

In the next moment, he heard the door open and close shut from the living room, and Al tried to move up from the floor, but panicked as his whole body felt numb. He could hardly move at all!

"Al, are you here?" Alfons asked. "I'm late because I worked overtime."

"I'm here," Al said defeated. He had managed to roll onto his back, but didn't get much further.

"Is everything alright?" Alfons opened the door to his bedroom and stared puzzled at the collapsed younger teen on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"I can't get up," Al admitted, staring at the other upside-down in his position.

Alfons chuckled softly. "Are you tiring yourself out?" He stepped forward and curved down, carefully helping the bronze-haired boy to sit up.

"I learned a technique that makes me use some extra energy," Al explained. "I think I just used a bit too much..." His eyes drooped a bit and his head rested against Alfons's arm, barely able to keep himself in sitting position.

"Seems like it," Alfons said worried. "I'll bring you some orange juice." Without hesitation, he picked Al up from the floor, and the younger protested in his arms.

"You don't have to carry me, I'm okay."

Alfons smiled and put him down on the bed. "I think you'll be much more comfortable lying here. I'll be right back." He left the room, but his presence was soon replaced by a purring, golden cat.

Goldy jumped up on Al's bed and started playing the toe he had been experimentally wriggling. He laughed as the clutches tickled him underneath his foot. "No no, stop that, Goldy, you're torturing me!"

Alfons came back and had a good laugh before deciding to save him, and picked up the cat, put her on the floor, sat down on the bedside and helped Al take a sip of his juice.

"Are you feeling any better?" Alfons asked.

Al nodded his head and experimentally lifted his arm, flexing his fingers. He was still a bit numb, but it was slowly letting go. He probably just needed to rest a bit. "Hey, Alfons," he said in a low voice, indicating that there was something he wanted to ask. He supposed Alfons was used to that long ago.

"Yes?"

"I remembered something more."

Alfons stared surprised at him. "You did?"

"Yes, I remembered something about the Brigadier General," Al said carefully.

Alfons' eyes darkened, but he remained silent at that.

"He came into our house in Central, and then he attacked you," Al elaborated. "At that time I found out that he was doing something... horrible to you, and my brother didn't know about it. And then we tried to find out something about the Brigadier General. Something to blackmail him with, so he wouldn't hurt you anymore, right?"

Alfons eyes were blank and empty. "That's right."

Al closed his eyes, not needing to know further details. He knew the most important ones. He had supported Alfons and he had stood up for him in the past, like friends do. They had been friends all along, and even if he had known it all along, this was the first time he managed to visualize how that had been like.

He tried to sit up against the headboard of his bed, and after some seconds, he succeeded. After all that had happened, he hoped Alfons didn't feel less of him. What if he had been a different and better person before he lost his memories? Alfons hadn't just experienced losing Edward, he had also lost the only side of Al he knew, and Al had never even thought about it that way.

He leaned forward, hiding his face in his palm. "Am I different?"

"Different?"

"Different from whom I was when you first knew me," Al elaborated. "I mean, since when we first got to this world, I had no memories of you."

"No," Alfons said. "You're the same person. Only the circumstances were different."

Al fell silent for a while, thinking about what Alfons had said. "I feel like I really know you now, even better than I did before."

A small smiled trailed across the older boy's lips.

"Do you remember when we fought our last battle in the Thule Society headquarters in Amestris?" Al asked.

Alfons looked surprised at him. "Yes."

"You probably don't know this, because you were gone when the Colonel came back. But when the Gate caused the ground to split, the Colonel and Brigadier General Kiehle fell down into the crack. Mustang fought the Brigadier General down there; he told us when he came back." Al stared down at the striped quilt. "He and Hawkeye were the only ones who returned from that split."

Alfons' eyes widened.

"Kiehle attacked the Colonel, and he was about to win even. But then Hawkeye showed up and shot him. The Brigadier General was killed."

Al observed quietly as Alfons drew his clear blue eyes to the floor and breathed deeply, inhaling the news. He wondered what he was thinking, if he was relieved or remorseful or cared at all. But it seemed like Alfons did care.

His eyes hardened and he looked up again and he swallowed hard like his throat was filled with ash. "I didn't know that he was dead. I'm glad you told me, Al."

Maybe it would be easier to bury the past now? To forget what he didn't want to remember? Al smiled at his friend. "I thought you'd want to know. By the way, I have something else that I need to tell you too."

Alfons looked up at him again. "I'm listening."

Al instinctively lowered his voice. "The transmutation circle is finished. I know what to do. But we need a place to do it."

Alfons brightened up at that news. "Really?!" They were another step closer. Just a little bit more now! He hoped Edward would hold on long enough. He nodded, suddenly bit by an exciting feeling in the pit of his stomach. "This is great. We'll do it inside the apartment."

Al stared at him like he was crazy. "Inside...?" _Inside the house?_ It reminded him only of the human transmutation he had done on his mother.

But Alfons nodded confidently. "I want to bring him directly home. Don't you think that would be best for him? Who knows what state he'll be in when he returns... We can't do it outside in the snow and besides, we're in the middle of a large city. If we go somewhere we're certain no one will see us, we have to go far."

Alfons was right. Al nodded slowly in agreement. It could be done, so why not? "Okay, it's decided then. We'll do it right here in the living room."

There weren't many days left now. And this time it would _work._


End file.
